


Bless the Broken Road

by LissaDream, Snowblind12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaDream/pseuds/LissaDream, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowblind12/pseuds/Snowblind12
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Slow burn Dramione. Draco & Hermione meet again at a spouse-loss grief group almost fifteen years after the Battle of Hogwarts and connect on a deep level through their mutual experience of losing their lover & friend & being single parents in the wizarding world. They maintain a secret friendship which grows into something more. Will their families support them? Chapter 5+ Co-Authored with SnowBlind12~~~~~~~~~BtBR Synopsis: This story starts seven years post Hogwarts and quickly moves to fourteen years post Hogwarts. Everything is Canon up until this story starts (to the BEST of my ability – if you see something I have wrong, please let me know, no hard feelings will be had). Draco and Hermione have both lost their spouses unexpectedly young and tragically. They are single parents. They meet again at a spouse loss grief group. Draco has been attending the group for a couple years when Hermione joins. They build a tentative friendship that strengthens quickly and morphs into more. This is their story of love and how their families react.Disclaimer: Anything you recognize the lovely JKR dreamed up. I thank the Lord she lets us play with them. I make no money from my fiction.





	1. Here Comes Good-bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**BLESS THE BROKEN ROAD**

* * *

   **February 4 th, 2006**   
**_"Why does it have to go from good to gone?*”_**

* * *

“The head is out!” a Mediwitch crowed in delight. “One more push should do it! You’re doing great, mummy! You got this!”

“Come on, Tori, one more push,” Draco encouraged. He smoothed her beautiful, sweat soaked, dark chestnut locks out of her face. Giving her an affectionate smile, he took her hand again. “You can do it, baby.”

Astoria gave him a jerky nod and a tight smile, exhaustion evident on her face. He watched her prepare for the coming contraction. Her face crumpled and pulled into a grimace of undeniable pain mixed with overwhelming fatigue. Gritting her teeth, she grunted, and pushed with all her might, her face turning red with the effort.

Draco watched the slippery, purple, white-coated infant slip from his wife’s body in utter amazement. It was the most incredible thing he had every witnessed.

“It’s a boy!” the Healer exclaimed as precious cries started to fill the room.

“I knew it!” Draco cried, turning back to Astoria. His eyes were filled with excitement and triumph. He had expected to see her beautiful blue eyes watching their son, had expected to see them wet with tears of joy. Seeing his wife’s beautiful blue eyes fixed and staring was something he was _not_ expecting to see.

“Tori?” The question was fearful and came just as high-pitched beeping wail pierced the room. It seemed that, for a just a second, the Healer and Mediwitches froze. Then utter chaos ensued. He was buffeted back against the wall, knocking his head. “Tori!” The cry was desperate, his voice choked with fear.

“Get him out of here!” the Healer shouted.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. Terror gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t think, couldn’t…no. This couldn’t be happening . “Please!” he cried when no one answered.

“You must come with me, Mr. Malfoy.” One Mediwitch gripped his arm tightly and started to pull him from the room.

“No!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong with my wife?”

“Get him out of here!” the Healer cried again. He couldn’t see the Healer or Astoria as a half dozen more medical staff came surging into the room. Strong arms grasped him from behind and, even though he fought with all his might, he was dragged from the room by two large security wizards.

“Draco!” Narcissa Malfoy was running – yes running – down the hall. Her face was a mask of fear and concern. “What’s going on?” His father was behind her, but much more composed.

“Is it the baby?” Astoria’s mother, Iris, questioned as she pushed her way between Lucius and Narcissa.

“Come.” The Mediwitch, he thought her name was Daisy, grasped Draco’s arm and beckoned his parents and mother-in-law forward. “There is a private waiting room just over here.”

“I demand you tell me what is going on!” Draco seethed, anger and haughtiness taking over to help crush the stifling fear he felt deep in his gut.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy,” she responded placatingly. “Please, come.” She gestured them through the door into the small, but luxurious waiting space. “I will try and figure out what is happening, Mr. Malfoy. I’m sorry for your fear. I will be back as quickly as I can.” Before anyone in the room could protest, she was gone.

“What is going on, Draco?” Narcissa asked gently, she wound her hand through the arm of her twenty-five-year-old son, attempting to get him to look at her. “Is the baby all right?”

“I-I…I don’t know.” He was barely able to choke out the words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was he having a heart attack? “He was crying, the Medi-staff was excited – they seemed happy.”

“He?” Lucius’s face split into a grin. “A son, then, Draco? Congratulations.” Narcissa shot him a mixed look of exasperation, delight, and concern. Of course she was ecstatic to hear about the birth of her grandson, but something was not right. Her son was positively beside himself.

“I don’t understand,” Iris intoned, Ignoring Lucius’ words, she watched the face of her son-in-law carefully. “If the baby was crying, what happened?”

“Astoria…” Draco swallowed, a hand coming up to card through his hair. “I…oh my God.” His throat closed and a sob wrenched his way up out of his chest.

Iris understood immediately and tears started forming in her eyes as one hand came up to cover her mouth. Narcissa’s lovely face paled to a terrifying shade of white and she pulled her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and stroking his back. Lucius looked shocked and then an uncharacteristic bought of sadness swept his features as he glanced to the doorway. The Mediwitch, who’s name tag did indeed read _Daisy_ , had returned. Her face was grave, her eyes sad. Four faces fixed on her. In her arms, she held a small bundle of soft receiving blankets. In them an infant was squalling quietly, making smacking sounds with his lips.

“Healer Peters will be here to see you momentarily,” she told them in a calm, soothing voice. “I thought, in the meantime, you’d like to meet your son.” The jerk of Draco’s head and the glare he sent to the blankets in her arms made Daisy take a startled step back.

Iris watched Draco with undecipherable emotion in her eyes. She knew the rejection of his son came from his denial surrounding the sudden and unexpected death of his wife. Her heart ached with the knowledge her youngest daughter was dead. Somehow, she knew, even if she hadn’t heard the words yet.

“I will take the child.” She took a step forward and Daisy placed the bundle tenderly in his grandmother’s arms.

“How about the fun tidbits?” She was making a valiant effort to bring a bit of joy to what should have been a very happy day. “Weight? Length?”

“Of course.” Daisy gave the small group a tender smile, eyes taking in the way the Malfoy’s were clustered together; son wrapped in the mother’s protective arms, father lording over them to bring a silent comfort. It was obviously a loving family. “This little guy was born at 6:52 in the evening weighing three point five seven kilograms.** He is 55.8 centimeters** in length and is absolute perfection.” Her face could only be described as peaceful and affectionate as she watched the infant in Iris’s arms.

A moment later, Healer Peters entered the room. Face set with grim determination, she gestured to the chairs. “Please sit,” she instructed the room at large. Daisy inconspicuously took her leave as the group of four found seats. Draco between his parents; Iris and the child across from them.

“I am afraid Mrs. Astoria Malfoy suffered from an aneurysm in her brain that ruptured with the strain of childbirth.” Draco couldn’t believe how cold and unfeeling the words fell; horror and grief swept over him in a tidal wave of emotion.

“She’ll recover, though, yes?” Narcissa questioned, a hint of desperation in her voice. She adored the woman who had made Draco so happy over the last three years. Astoria had become the daughter she never thought she’d have.

“I’m so sorry.” Healer Peters’ voice became soft and gentle, sadness seeping through and Draco’s eyes slid closed in attempts to hide his pain and stop the tears that threatened to spill. “We did everything we could, but her heart stopped. We could not restart it. She died at 7:19.”

The silence was deafening, even the infant made no sound. _Does he know his mother is dead? Dead. My wife is dead. She never got to touch him, hold him…look at him. She never even got to see him._ He heard a strangled cry and looked around for the noise, startled. Only when his mother pulled his head into her chest did he realize it was he – himself – making such an undignified sound.

* * *

Draco stood in the master suite in the West Wing of Malfoy Manor, staring at himself in the mirror of the bathroom he had shared with his wife and best friend for the last three years. His reflection would be perfect if it weren’t for the purple bruises under his steel grey eyes and the hallow, sallowness of his cheeks. He had grown into himself. No longer was he gangly limbs and awkward movements. He shot up a few more inches since leaving Hogwarts, topping out at just over six feet. He was keeping his platinum blond locks shaved up the sides, but longer on top – always vainly liking the way it fell into his eyes. He was, what people liked to call, a beautiful man. He boasted a chiseled face with a strong jaw, a straight nose, and full lips. His brow line and eyes were unique as he had received them from his mother, wide eyes and long lashes gave him a face of beauty versus the more masculine word handsome. He had filled out and remained very active; his muscles were thick, defined, and ropey. His broad shoulders and chest tapered into a slender waist with jutting hip bones down to thick, powerful legs. He turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see how haunted he looked.

They buried Astoria Greengrass Malfoy in the family plot earlier that day. Underneath the large willow she was so fond of. The image of the casket holding his beautiful, twenty-three-year-old wife lowering into the ground replayed in his mind, the roiling sick from that moment came back full force and he barely made it to the toilet before losing what little he had in him. As he retched into the black porcelain toilet, his thoughts raced. _I can’t believe she’s gone. This can’t be happening. Life was just starting. It was just getting good. I was just starting to feel happy._ He spat into the toilet as the contractions of his stomach subsided and flushed it before moving back to the sink to rinse his mouth and clean his teeth.

He pulled the cravat from his neck and shed his dress robes into a heap at his feet – the house elves would take care of them later. He flicked his wand at the shower and the multi-headed torrent of water started to pummel the black and green-veined marble walls and smoke-glass doors. He let the water warm before stepping into the punishing spray. The hot water calmed him greatly, forcing his tense muscles to unclench and relax, but it also opened his mind. His thoughts were nothing but pain and loss and the tears of grief started to slide easily down his face and mix with the hot water.

Sobs left him in great heaves of agony and he leaned his forehead into the cool stone of the stall wall. After a long time, he calmed and straightened to shut off the taps. Wrapping his waist in a thick towel, he padded barefoot to the large walk-in closet that joined the bathroom to the bedchamber. He avoided looking to the left, where Astoria’s things were kept along with her makeup vanity and all those odds and ends women think they need to be beautiful. Instead, he turned right, into his own wardrobe. He pulled a pair of soft, grey fleece pants from his dresser and a white cotton tee from a hanger and slipped into them. He was looking forward to the oblivion sleep would give him.

He walked back into his bedroom and stopped. Something seemed out of place. He looked around for a moment before his eyes fell to his bed. In the middle of it, a bundle of blankets was spotted and a tiny fist was waving around outside of the folds of cloth. He panicked, quickly walking to his chamber doors with every intention to flee. They were locked. The terror continued to rise.

“Tilly!” he exclaimed to no one, but the house elf heard him. He was stalking across the room, back to the bathroom in search of his wand when he heard the elf _crack_ into existence.

“What can Tilly do for young Master?” she asked, her bulbous eyes watching him warily from across the room.

“Why is my room locked?” He demanded, pointing his wand at the door with a silent _Alohamora._ It did not budge.

“Young Master will not be able to open the door,” Tilly said in an apologetic voice. “Master and Mistress forbid it. They is saying young Master must bond with the wee one.”

Draco looked at the elf in horror. “Tilly, I demand you let me out of here at once.”

“I is sorry, Master. I cannot be doing this.”

“Tilly!”

“Tilly is threatened with _clothes_ , young Master. Tilly is allowed to bring young Master anything he wishes for personal comfort, sir. Anything he needs for the wee one. But Tilly is not being allowed to let young Master leave his room or to take the wee one out of his care. Mistress is telling Tilly you must look after the babe.” Tilly was very unhappy to be upsetting her young Master whom she helped bring up from infancy, but was more terrified of Lucius and Narcissa by far. Her ears were flat against her head.

Draco closed his eyes. His Mother was a stubborn piece of work on her best days. She was furious with him for refusing to even look at the little monster on the bed, let alone touch or hold him. “Tilly, tell my mother she much come and fetch the child at once.”

“Tilly will let Mistress know of young Master’s discomfort.”

“Please, Tilly, and thank you. You may be dismissed.” It wasn’t that Draco would hurt the child, and he knew his mother knew this, he just…couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t touch him. He was struggling with the misguided notion that this little person in the middle of his and Astoria’s bed was the reason his beloved wife was gone. Deep down he knew this was utter rubbish, but the pain was just too new; the wounds were too raw. He glanced at the little, undefinable lump of fabric and, for the first time since he had been told his wife was dead, felt a tug of curiosity pull him. He walked slowly across the room, never noticing the _crack_ that sounded as the elf disapparated.

He stood at the edge of the large bed, hands shoved into the pockets of his lounge pants, wet platinum blond hair dripping into his eyes. Slowly, so slowly, he crawled onto the bed and settled beside the child, who was starting to whimper as he rutted with his mouth in the folds of the blanket. Cautiously, Draco slipped his hands into the soft warmth of the bundle and pulled the blanket away from the face of the child. His child. _Her_ child. He drank in the sight of a beautiful, tiny, perfect face. He had her nose and lips. His breath caught. _My son. Our son._

* * *

** May 2nd, 2012 **  
**_“Here comes goodbye. Here comes the last time. Here comes the start of every sleepless night. The first of every tear I’m going to cry. Here comes the pain. Here comes me wishing things would never change and you were right here in my arms tonight. Here comes goodbye.”*_ **

* * *

“Ron! We’re going to be late! You still need to get Hugo to the nursery!” Hermione Granger called up the stairs of their small, two-story home.

“I’m coming, sweetheart!” The reply came with just a touch of exasperation and she grinned at the ceiling before going back to the diligent preparation for the upcoming departure of their red haired, befreckled four-year-old son. At his mother’s silly expression, Hugo gave her a lopsided smile much like that of his father’s.

“Daddy’s late again?” he asked her in a sweet, high pitched voice.

“As always!” She tapped him on the nose with a smile and finished zipping his light coat. It was promising to be a nice, warm spring day, but the morning was cool. “Are you ready to go to nursery, love bug?”

“Yes! I’m essited to see Lily! I love my Lily.” The last part of the sentence was said with such sloppy, loving warmth it made Hermione’s heart swell. She envied her children their many cousins; growing up so alone had been no way to live. She adored her big, extended family.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Ron dashed into the kitchen, eyes bright. That same, lop-sided grin on his handsome face lit the room and sent a twinge of desire to her womb. _I think it’s time to ask him about one more baby_.

“Good morning, little man!” He scooped Hugo up into his arms. The tot gave an appreciative squeal and Hermione laughed brightly as Ron gave the child a light toss in the air and then wrapped him in a protective hug, dropping a kiss to the thatch of red, thick, unruly curls.

“’Morning, daddy,” Hugo squealed, snuggling into his dad’s embrace.

“’Morning, Hugo…‘Mione.” Ron leaned down to press a kiss to Hermione’s lips which she returned with ardent enthusiasm. He slipped his tongue past her lips and one arm left the cocoon he had made for his son to wrap around his wife’s slender waist. Ten years of marriage had not dampened his love for her – as his best friend or his wife. In fact, things just seemed to get better every year.

“Morning, love,” she responded dreamily after he pulled away. He raised his hand from her waist and brushed a stray curl from her face before smoothing the light laugh lines at the corner of one of her eyes.

“You look lovely, as always.” The crooked grin, plus the compliment, brought a light blush to Hermione’s cheeks. She stood up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking…” She trailed off, watching him devour his son’s face with his eyes. Gods, he was such a wonderful daddy. Ron tilted his head and looked down at her as she slipped both arms around his slender waist.

“That’s always dangerous.” His eyes twinkled with mirth and she gave him a playful slap on the arm.

“Oh, you!” She chuckled. “Do you want to know? Or are you going to tease me all morning?”

“I always want to know what’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours,” he told her seriously, but his eyes did not lose their mischief. She grinned.

“I’m thinking it’s time for another one of these.” She ran her hand through Hugo’s curls lovingly, warm brown eyes watching her husband’s face expectantly. His clear blue eyes widened as a full grin slowly split his face.

“Yeah?” He set Hugo down and urged him to go play for a few minutes before they had to go.

“Yeah.” She crinkled her nose as her smiled widened. He wrapped one arm around her and tilted her face up by the chin, plopping a chaste kiss on her lips. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Would I be…? Bloody hell, woman. I want to get started right away!” He slapped her behind playfully and she let out a squeak of surprise, mirth and happiness etched into every line on her face. He sealed his mouth to hers hungrily, both hands now cupping her bum as he pulled her into his growing desire as evidence he was not lying. She returned the kiss with vigor for a bit before coming to her senses.

“We can get started tonight.” She waggled her eyebrows at him as she pulled away. He heaved a sigh of regret and reluctantly let her go.

She put Hugo’s lovey in his back pack before handing it to Ron along with the bacon sandwich she had made him for breakfast and his lunch container. Ron called to Hugo to come back and get ready to floo out. “I’ll see you for lunch?”

“Not today, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He gave her an apologetic look and dropped a kiss to her forehead before taking the items from her. “Harry and I are patrolling Diagon Alley.” He grimaced. “There’s usually some sort of idiocy that happens today, you know that. All Aurors are on high alert and in the field.”

Hermione felt her mouth tug into a tight frown, her teeth coming out to worry her bottom lip. Yes, she knew – she was just trying to forget that today was the fourteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort.

“Hey,” he paused and used his thumb to pluck her bottom lip. “None of this, everything will be fine.” He gave her another, gentle kiss.

That helped pull her out of her worry. “Yes, I forgot about the patrol today. I’ll see you at home tonight, then. I’ll get Rose from your mum and dad’s, I already sent her through the floo to joint tutoring with Albus and Dominique at Shell Cottage. Fleur will send her to your mum’s when their lessons are done for today. Don’t forget to pick Hugo up from the Ministry nursery before you come home!”

Ron pouted. “I forget once. O _nce!_ And you feel the need to remind me every day for the rest of my life!” The comment was laced with feigned frustration and Hermione threw a smirk at him over her shoulder as she pulled her traveling cloak on. He winked at her. “I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you!” She called, as she slipped her bag over her shoulder and, after grabbing a pinch of floo powder, disappeared into the fireplace.

* * *

Screams echoed the halls and Hermione rose from her desk in alarm. She heard someone sobbing from behind a closed door. Pumps clacking on the tile floor, she broke into run. She exited the cubicles of her co-workers in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she held the Assistant Head position. “What’s going on?” she inquired wildly, grabbing the arm of Melissa Pennyworth.

“There was an attack in Diagon Alley, an explosion. It’s bad, Hermione, really bad.”

Hermione’s face drained of blood and the room spun alarmingly. She forced her suddenly parched throat to move as she attempted to swallow her fear. _Ron and Harry are fine, they’ll be fine._ They would be helping people, she would go to St. Mungo’s and find them.

“Melissa, tell everyone they’re dismissed. Go home and be with your family.”

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Her co-worker asked softly, noticing the demeanor and pallor of her friend.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to check on Ron and Harry,” she answered, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’m going to see if I can find Kingsley.” Pulling the girl into a brief hug, she told her to be safe and then departed.

She couldn’t find Kingsley, so she went to the nursery.

“Hermione!” Susan Bones greeted her old classmate with a worried expression from behind the front desk of the childcare center. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, Susan,” Hermione answered cautiously. “I’m here to pick up the kids. I’m going to take Hugo and Lily over to the Weasley’s and see if I can find Ron and Harry at St. Mungo’s. I’m just worried. Do the children know what’s been going on?”

“No, we’ve kept it quiet. Although, I think they known something is wrong. We’ve had a lot of parents come early today – not that I blame them!”

Hermione nodded absentmindedly.

“I’ll get them ready for you, why don’t you take a moment and collect yourself here? I’ll bring them out in a mo’.”

Hermione expressed her gratitude and plopped down on a chair. She placed her elbows on her knees and fisted her hands into her hair. Pulling in deep breaths, she attempted to calm her thundering heart and racing mind. _They’re fine. They’re fine. They’re going to be just fine._ She attempted in vain to calm herself; the thick, cloying sense of dread that had filled her the moment she heard the first scream would not leave. Something was _wrong_. Fear was starting to claw through her being.

“Here we are! Here’s your mum, Hugo, and your auntie, Lily!” Susan’s cheerful voice broke through the fog of panic that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Hello, my lovelies!” She forced a happy smile on her face and opened her arms to be filled by two beautiful, redheaded children. Both the tots squealed with joy and flung themselves into her arms. She squeezed them with all her might, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads.

“Should we go to MiMi’s?” she asked the two four-year-olds gently.

“Yeah! MiMi and Pops?” Hugo pulled back with his father’s lopsided grin plastered on his face and Hermione’s heart leapt.

“Yes, love bug, let’s go.” She took one of each child’s hands and pulled them into the Atrium. They stepped up to one of the humongous fireplaces and she threw a small handful of floo powder into the grate before stepping into the green flames holding each child’s hand and crying out, “The Burrow!”

Moments later, they spilled out of the Weasley’s fireplace. Molly spun around from where she was at the sink, her hand fluttering to her chest and her eyes wide. “Hermione!” she exclaimed. “Oh, dear! You startled me so!” She stopped herself suddenly and her eyes narrowed, taking in Hermione’s carefully controlled features.

The younger witch knelt down and pulled the children around to face her. “I want you to go to the playroom right away, I need to talk to MiMi in private,” she told them, sliding their bags off their shoulders. “Then I have to go, but I’ll back to get you, soon.” Both children nodded solemnly at her grave expression and bolted out of the room after stopping quick to give their grandmother a hug hello.

“Hermione, dear, you’re starting to scare me,” Molly said softly, watching her daughter-in-law’s face with keen interest.

“There was an attack in Diagon Alley – an explosion.” Molly’s face blanched and Hermione cleared her throat in attempts to make the tightness go away. “Harry and Ron were both on patrol there today, and I can’t get any information. I’d like to go, but I don’t want to put myself in danger. I was thinking I’d collect Ginny and go over to St. Mungo’s…?” Her statement broke off as a question. In attempt to stem her rising panic, she was looking for approval.

“I think that’s a good idea. Please keep me informed?”

“Of course, Molly.” The young witch leaned over and kissed Molly on the cheek. “I love you, I’ll be back to get the kids as soon as I know something.”

Ginny was not at Grimmauld Place as was expected, so she immediately flooded over to the hospital. When she arrived, it was utter pandemonium. She stood frozen at the fireplace, eyes scanning the crowds of people in shock. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink, until she heard the floo flame again behind her and hastily stepped out of the way for the next person coming in. That next person was a frantic, tearful Ginny who didn’t even notice Hermione as she pushed past, calling for her husband.

“Harry!” she cried, scanning the crowd. A messy, black haired head pop out from behind a curtain where he was assisting someone who was being triaged. Green eyes hidden behind broken spectacles focused on his wife instantly. “Harry! I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t at the Ministry or their house!”

“I’m right behind you Ginny.” Relief that Harry was okay was evident in her voice. She tried to keep her tone bright as her sister-in-law spun in a circle, eyes widening in surprise. “I couldn’t find you either, I – oh!” She broke off with a huff when Ginny threw herself at the curly-haired brunette and squeezed, effectively forcing the air from her lungs. Suddenly, she was engulfed by a strong pair of arms from behind. She was being swallowed by a Potter sandwich.

Then she knew – _Oh!_ – she knew. Her knee’s buckled and she felt tears sliding down her cheeks as they supported her. “No,” she whispered against Ginny’s ear. “Tell me he’s okay. Tell me he’ll be fine.” She begged, her breath was sticking in her lungs and she couldn’t control the flow of tears dripping down her face.

“I can’t Hermione.” Ginny’s voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Harry!” She pushed Ginny away in horror and spun around in her best friend’s arms. She shoved him just far enough away to look into his eyes. They were full of unshed tears and red-rimmed, like he had already been crying. “Harry, _no!_ ” she screamed, slamming her fists into his chest. He stumbled back a step and she let out a tormented sob and struck him again, arms flailing wildly. He grasped her elbows in both his palms and tried to pull her against him as a sob broke through his tenuous control. “Harry…no. No, no, no. _Please,_ no!” She collapsed against him, defeated, and felt Ginny slide back in against her as the dam of anger broke and horrible, terrible, anguished grief claimed her with an evil, unrelenting vengeance. The three family members held each other tightly as their world came crashing in around them.

* * *

She watched the mahogany casket start to lower into the black Earth, her heart begging for it to stop. Her legs trembled, barely supporting her. She kept expecting to wake from this nightmare. Hoping she would turn around to see Ron come striding through the crowd, asking everyone why they were so upset.

Her six-year-old daughter was next to her on her left, arms wrapped around her middle with her face buried in her hip. The poor thing hadn’t stopped crying for five days. She just kept asking her mum why daddy wasn’t coming home for dinner at night. Hermione had tried to help her understand, but Rose was protecting herself by pretending to not comprehend. She couldn’t blame the child – she was trying to do the same thing. Harry was on her right, a possessive, comforting arm around her shoulders trying to give her reassurance. It wasn’t working. Her life was ending. Part of her wished it was she being lowered into the ground. She didn’t know how she was going to survive without the man her world centered around. It had barely been a week and the missing of him was stifling.

The funeral attendance was huge. There were hundreds of people present. She supposed it was because of their celebrity status. She was trying to be grateful for the outpour of support, but in reality, she just wanted them all to go away. There were very few people she wanted in her life right now.

Hermione robotically completed her duties as widow throughout the rest of the day, often turning that word over in her mind. _I’m a widow at thirty-two. Oh, Ron. Gods, I miss you._ The last week had been painful, unendurable, unimaginable. She was surrounded by people at all times when she just needed to be alone. Alone with her thoughts, alone with her fears, alone with her worries. She needed to think, and she couldn’t with the constant barrage of people.

She knew they meant well. Knew that everyone just wanted to make sure that she and the kids were doing okay. She loved them for it, more than they could ever know. If she didn’t get a few moments to herself, soon, though, she would have a nervous breakdown that she might not come back from.

After what seemed like years, the last of the mourners left the banquet hall of the funeral home and Hermione was finally left with just her family. The Weasley’s and Potter’s milled around talking, crying, laughing, reminiscing, and caring for each another the only way they knew how – with tons food and love. Hermione couldn’t eat, hadn’t been able to eat for days. She sat in an overstuffed chair with a sleeping Hugo on her lap. Staring at nothing, she tried to focus on doing everything she could to hold it together. Just a little longer.

Harry and Ginny had agreed to take the children tonight so she could go home and get some peace. They knew her too well. Knew she would never be able to move forward in the grieving process if she didn’t get this time. Even though it worried them, they were willing to help. She had told the other Weasley’s that she would be staying with the Potter’s to keep them off her back.

“Are you ready, ‘Mione?” Harry said softly as he approached her with her daughter. Rose’s fingers were laced through Harry’s and she leaned into his side, it brought a sad smile to her lips. It was how she liked to hold her Daddy’s hand, too. _She’ll never get to again._

That thought made Hermione give a little whimper in the back of her throat and she tried to force her face not to crumple and to keep the tears at bay. “I am,” she rasped out, her voice weak with unshed tears. “Come give me some love, Rosie.” She beckoned the girl forward and her daughter obliged, wrapping her slender, gangly arms around her mother’s neck and pressing her face into her shoulder as Harry scooped Hugo out of her lap and into his arms. Ginny was waiting at the fireplace with James, Albus, and Lily, watching them with red-rimmed eyes.

“I love you, baby girl,” she murmured. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

“Okay, mum,” Rose whispered, pulling back to plant a kiss on Hermione’s cheek.

She let go of her mum and waved at her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins as Harry and her brother joined Ginny and their children at the floo. Hermione watched as they disappeared in three groups; James going first, Ginny with their younger two, and Harry with her children.

“Are you leaving, az well, ‘ermione?” Fleur questioned as she slowly approached the rest of the family.

“I’m going to follow them in a moment,” Hermione agreed. “I’m so…tired.” Fleur’s face was soft and full of love. Bill came up behind her and clasped her shoulders, pulling her into a backward hug and dropping a kiss on her head. Bill was built much like Ron, and his gesture was something Ron had done often, it made her throat close. She struggled for a moment, eyes squeezing shut tight as her hands came up to wrap around Bill’s wrists in thanks. When she opened them again, Fleur was looking away, tears trickling down her face. The women embraced and Hermione continued to make her rounds to say her good-byes.

Finally, she was flooing home, the house was eerily quiet. She made her way up the stairs to the moderately sized master bedroom suite at the far end of the hall. She stripped until she was in her skivvies and pulled Ron’s cotton robe from the hook behind the door, wrapping herself in his scent before crawling into his side of the bed and burying her face in his pillow to cry. Finally able to let the flood gates open and not worry about a child coming in to find their mother in a puddle of despair on the floor. She fell asleep with wet cheeks and the smell of her husband all around her.

 


	2. When You're Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrilled with the Kudos and comments. Always appreciate feedback.

**May 2009  
****“When you’re gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you. When you’re gone the face I came to know is missing, too. When you’re gone the words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it okay…I miss you.”** *

* * *

“Draco…” Narcissa Malfoy trailed off, looking to her husband for help. Lucius raised one pale eyebrow and gave a small shrug. _Blasted man is no help whatsoever,_ she thought affectionately. “Honey, it’s been almost three years. Don’t you think it’s time to…to move on a little?”

Draco raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of his father as he pulled a deep mouthful of wine from his goblet with his hard mouth. He took his time swallowing before gently setting the glass down and answering his mother. “I think, mother, that I’ll move on when the time is right. Don’t you agree, father?”

Lucius Malfoy, ever practical, raised both hands in surrender. “This is, as they say, your mother’s party. Don’t be too hard on her, son. She just wants to see you happy.”

The younger Malfoy closed his eyes in order to gain a brief respite from the conversation that had been had one too many times over the past few months. “I’m just not…ready, mother, please. Scorpius takes up plenty of my time. Then of course there is work at Malfoy Enterprises and learning to run the manor. I don’t have time to date.”

“But there’s this lovely girl, Chrysanthemum – she goes by Chrissy. She’s a cousin to the Selwyn’s and I think you would adore her, Draco!” Narcissa protested. “She’s positively stunning.”

“I will not marry for duty again, mother.”  His words were clipped

Narcissa harrumphed, pouting. “You loved Astoria.”

“I grew to love Astoria, and we both know how lucky I was. You two know how lucky you are.” Draco looked pointedly at his parents. “When – _if_ – I marry again, it will be for love. Love for me and for Scorpius. I will not let the strictness of tradition guide my heart if I marry a second time.”

His parent’s stunned expressions were somewhat satisfying. Maybe he could finally put them off for a while. The constant insistence he meet and marry someone new helped nothing. Lucius cleared his throat. “What, exactly, are you trying to tell us, Draco?”

“Have you met someone?” Narcissa tilted her head, a small, hopeful smile crossing her face. At this point, he could bring home a full-blown Muggle , as long as the girl made him smile.

“No, mother, please don’t get the wrong idea.” An ache was starting to form behind his eyes and he rubbed his forehead with long, elegant fingers in attempts to sooth it away. “I’m trying to tell you that I will not be forced into a second arranged marriage with a pureblood witch. I will meet a woman the modern way. We will date and fall in love and then – _only then_ – will I propose marriage. I’m trying to tell you that if she happens to be half-blood or Muggle -born, I will not be swayed by your prejudices. Those prejudices are no longer mine. They haven’t been for a long time.”

Narcissa looked horrified at his presumptions, but the angry color rising in her husband’s face told her Lucius was still clinging to the old ways for dear life. This was not going as she had planned. “You don’t know what you’re saying!” Narcissa said quickly, reaching a hand out to cover her husband’s in attempts to calm him, she shot him a warning look and he gripped her fingers with his own. His face remained colored, but his eyes agreed with her that they could discuss this matter later.  

“I do, mother. I do know what I am saying.” He heaved a deep sigh and took another large mouthful of the delicious red vintage. “Please understand, I’m not going to purposely go looking for a half-blood or Muggle -born witch. I don’t think I’ve ever been a spiteful son, but I will not be put off by it. We lost the war, just in case you don’t remember. For fucks sake, father, the Dark Lord was only a half-blood!” Lucius started to sputter, but Draco broke him off. “Father, you have your pureblood heir with me, and I have mine with Scorpius. Any more children I may or may not have – well it just doesn’t matter to me. All that matters to me is to eventually find someone I can love. Someone who will open their heart willingly to the boy. Be happy with that, and please-” Here he looked at his mother again, eyes alight with frustration undercut with sadness. “Please stop trying to push me into a relationship I’m not ready for. It will only end in more unhappiness.”

He didn’t wait for them to answer. Tossing his napkin down on his plate, he shoved his chair back and stalked out of the dining room. It took every ounce of determination not to flee like a toddler having a tantrum. He was so bloody sick of having this talk with them, which is why he derailed it with the half-blood and Muggle-born comment – which he was actually quite serious about. He wasn’t ready to date. He didn’t want to marry again any time soon. He would be damned if he was talked into courting and marrying another pureblood witch – unless he was interested. Which, at this point, he was not.

He slammed the front door of the Manor behind him in his frustrated rage and then, before he even knew what he was doing, he was standing in front of the willow where his wife had been entombed almost three years ago. It was freezing, he had left his cloak inside, barely even realizing where he had intended to go.

Staring at the white marble stone that marked Astoria’s grave, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets. He bowed his head, hair whipping in the freezing January wind. “How has it been three years, Tori?” he whispered, digging the toe of his shoe into the thin layer of powdery snow beneath his feet. “It feels like yesterday.” He sighed and looked up and over his shoulder; Malfoy Manor loomed in the shadows of the dark, a few windows lit with a warm glow.  
  
He turned back to the headstone. “I miss you. So much.” He stood there a long time, eyes burning with unshed tears. He stared at nothing until the cold winter wind moved him into action. Stepping forward, he dropped a kiss on top of the stone before turning to leave.

* * *

** September 2010 **

* * *

 

“I will not stand for this anymore, darling.” Iris Greengrass clinked her teacup down on its saucer and glared at her son-in-law, who was watching Scorpius play with a few figurines of dragons on the floor in the Greengrass’s day room. “Astoria would never want you to live this way. You need a woman in your life. That little boy needs a mother.”

Draco gave an exasperated snort. “You and I bloody well know that Astoria would love that I was pining for her, Iris. Seriously.”

The regal woman couldn’t help but give a chuckle. “Fine. You may be right, but after a time I think it would have saddened her. Dear boy, it’s been long enough. Have you even been on a date in the last four and a half years?”

“Of course, I have.” He made a face. “Not any good ones, though.” A sigh escaped him. “I just…nothing’s right. Every time I go out with someone, I just compare them to her. No one meets expectations.”

“Hmm,” the older witch mused. “Please don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but Draco…” She trailed off and took a deep breath, as if she was preparing for a killing blow. “I think you need help.”

Draco gave his mother-in-law a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“Help. You need to go somewhere, talk about what you’re feeling.”

“A shrink?”

“Oh, well. Perhaps.” She gave a noncommittal shrug, then turned to her small clutch bag. “A friend of mine lost her husband earlier this year. She’s been attending a support group through the hospital.” Iris pulled a small lavender colored pamphlet out of her bag. “She said it’s really helpful to be around other people who truly understand her loss.” She handed the paper out to him.

Draco hesitantly reached out his hand and plucked the brochure from her fingers, glancing down at it.

“Spouse-loss Support Group.” He raised his eyebrows, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Go once, Draco,” Iris begged. It was undignified, but she couldn’t watch her son-in-law continue down this dreary, lonely path. All the poor man did was work and care for his son. While he was an exceptional father, and Scorpius adored him, she knew he needed a woman in his life. Both of the young Malfoy boys did. Woman changed everything. They made everything brighter and softer.

“I don’t know, Iris…” He trailed off and thumbed open the pamphlet. He scanned the first paragraph, emotion closing his throat.

_The death of a spouse means losing your lover, best friend, confidante, and co-wrangler of children, household tasks, and life. In addition to the heartache of missing the person closest to you in the world, the isolation of losing a spouse can be devastating. Friends and family are nurturing and helpful in the first few weeks after death, but are not always available when you need support. Come join us and we will help you connect with others for advice and sympathy. Somewhere you can share your feelings anytime of the day or night. **_

He felt a warm body sit next to him and realized Iris had moved from her position across the way. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and pull him into a sideways hug. “I miss her, too. Every day of my life. Losing a daughter is devastating in its own right. Losing a spouse, though, I think is much harder. Your other half was taken from you much too soon. The people who attend this group understand what you are going through. Please, Draco. Just give it a try.”

Draco’s eyes tingled with the threat of tears, which he was able to keep at bay. It had been a long time since he had cried last.

“You need to figure out how to work through the grief, love.” She patted his hand. “It’s been too long already. Life is passing you by. Please.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll try it, Iris. I thank you for your concern.” He did not meet her eyes as he folded the slip of paper and tucked it into his robe pocket.

“Good,” the brunette witch said with a smile, patting his back.

“Thank you for the tea, Iris.” He leaned over to hug the woman affectionately, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek. “Scorpius, come now, son. Time to go!”

He watched the small, scrawny, blond-haired boy gather his dragons before bringing them to his father. Draco shrunk them down and put them in his pocket while his son hugged his Grandmother.

“I love you, Grandmother,” he said obligingly and Draco smiled. A real, genuine smile. Scorpius was the only person in the world who could draw them out of him these days.

“C’mon, my little monster!” He scooped the boy up into his arms, Scorpius immediately snuggled into Draco’s shoulder with a yawn. “You’re a tired bloke, huh?”

“I’m not tired,” the little boy whispered, eyes already drooping.

“Mm.” Draco made a sound of agreement, even though he knew better, and suppressed a chuckled. “We’ll see you next week, Iris. Take care!”

* * *

** August 2012 **

* * *

 

“Hey, Gregory.” Draco smiled at the elderly man as he handed him a cup of black coffee. “How are you doing tonight?”

“Hey, kiddo.” Gregory’s voice was rough with age and deep like a bassoon. “I’m hanging in there. How are things with you? Is that witch you were dating still in the picture?”

Draco made a face. Six and a half years since Astoria had passed away and he had only had two semi-serious girlfriends, both ending disastrously because of jealousy for his dead wife. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of dating again. “No, Greg. She wasn’t the right one.”

“Ah, that’s too bad, kid. Young, handsome lad like you deserves a good witch to warm his bed and care for him.” He gave a crude wink and made his way to the circle of chairs set up in the back room of a small café in Diagon Alley while Draco shook his head at him affectionately. Mostly everyone was here, but it was still a bit early. He’d give it a few minutes before getting the session going. They had a few new people join them over the last four months – two of them having lost their spouses in the explosion that had happened on May second.

Iris had convinced him to attend this group almost two years ago, and it had changed his existence. So much so, that after eighteen months of attending, he was asked to lead the group. The former leader, a woman named Pricilla Storm, had remarried and was well on her way to a new, happy life. She had felt the need to move on from her volunteer position with St. Mungo’s. Draco would be forever grateful to the woman, she had really helped him come to terms with his grief.

He looked up in surprise as a very small figure entered the room. At first, he thought it was a child, but took a step back in surprise when she turned. He’d never forget that face for as long as he lived. Instantly his hands grew clammy as he took her in. She had aged well. _Fuck that, she’s bloody gorgeous._ Maybe not beautiful in the pureblood sense of the word, but an Earthy, surreal beauty that was very unique and understated. She was small, barely over five feet tall, and petite. If she weighed more than seven and a half stone he’d be surprised. It did look like she had probably recently lost a bit of weight, but that was only natural. He had lost more than a stone himself, after Astoria had died. Extreme grief can definitely kill an appetite. She had become quite curvy, no doubt popping out a couple kids was responsible for that delicious change. _Delicious? Merlin, Draco, get a grip. If she doesn’t turn tail and run like she’s being chased by a flock of wild Hippogriffs when she sees you, it will be a miracle._  

How many kids did she and Weasley have? He couldn’t remember. Two…three? His focus returned to the brunette and it alarmed him to realize she had seen him. The expression on her face mirrored his own surprised feelings. He watched as she reached up to pull at a curl nervously. That bushy mass of riotous curls had haunted him for the back half of his Hogwarts career as he had harbored a very secret, and unwanted crush on the girl. Woman. _Yeah, she’s a woman now._ It was still a mess, spilling over her shoulders and down her back, much longer than in their last year at school. He didn’t think he had seen her since then.

Her warm, brown with amber eyes roamed the room hesitantly, stopping on a few faces she likely recognized from the papers of their spouse’s deaths in link to the explosion, then she returned to his steel-grey orbs. Her teeth were out, worrying her full, pouty bottom lip in a gesture he recognized as a stress reliever. It came back to him in a tidal wave of memories. She had done that more times than he could count while at school. To the point where her pouty bottom lip would be bloody during exam time. He’d always wanted to reach across the room and pluck the poor thing right out of harm’s way before kissing her senseless. Shaking his head, he tried to gather his thoughts. This would never do.

She was walking up to him. “Malfoy?” It was said hesitantly, almost like she wasn’t sure it was really him. He wanted to laugh.

“Hey, Granger,” he said instead, kindly. He was very well aware of her recent loss. He would not be cruel, he would not be snarky – he was thirty-one years old. An adult. He was embarrassed by the things he had said and done to her in his youth. He was worried, though, his nerves would get the best of him and his engrained snarkiness would get the best of him.  
  
His thoughts turned back to her recent loss. Gods, he couldn’t imagine being with someone for that long and losing them the way she had. How long had they been friends before they got married? Nine years? Ten? They were fourteen years past the end of the war, add another seven…twenty-one years she’d known that lucky bastard. They’d been married at least half that. All of a sudden, his grief was put into a much smaller bubble. He was used to knowing people who had lost their spouses after fifteen, twenty, even more than fifty years because of this group. Granger’s loss just seemed different, though. Maybe because he had grown up with them. Granger without Weasley just seemed…wrong.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” He gestured to the cart. “Most people are so wiped by this time of the evening they find the pick me up refreshing.”

She dropped surprised eyes to the tray and then flicked them back up to meet his. “What’s the catch?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Catch?”

“Yeah, the catch. You’re going to dump it on me?” A frown tugged the corners of her mouth and she crossed her arms suspiciously. He was floored, he had been kind, right? It hadn’t come out all condescending or holy-than-thou, had it? Damnit.

He raised his hands as if to show he was apologetic. “No catch, Granger!” he insisted. “Just a cup of coffee.” His expression was innocent and he watched her eyes narrow, sizing him up. Then she smoothed her face and had the grace to look abashed. She gave a little sigh and let her arms drop to her sides.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m nervous, my emotions are high. I guess old habits do die hard. I’d love some coffee.”

He gave a light chuckle, reaching one hand up to scratch behind his head before busying himself with making her a cup. “Forgiven. No worries. I’ve grown up a bit, though. Haven’t purposely spilled anything on someone in years.” He tossed her a crooked grin as he handed her a cup of coffee after dropping a dollop of cream and a sugar cube in it.

Her eyes widened perceptibly. “How in the world do you know how I like my coffee?”

“Uhm…” _Shit!_ He cleared his throat. She probably would not be too impressed that he watched her so much in their eighth year when they returned to finish their N.E.W.T.s - he’d never forget how she liked her coffee. She had drunk three or more cups every morning at the breakfast table. He also knew she preferred strawberry jam and didn’t like gravy on her mashed potatoes. He answered with a shrug. “Lucky guess?”

She seemed to accept that at face value. “Very lucky!”

“You do know where you are, right, Granger?” he asked softly. “You do mean to be here?” He watched her face go from open and kind, to guarded as her eyes shuttered.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she hissed. Her tone gave warning of her anger, laced with just a touch of desperation, devastation, and brilliant determination. “My family asked me to give it a try. I don’t know what good it will do, but I’m trying not to disappoint. Harry and Ginny are worried about me. No one under…understands…” She took a deep breath as her voice hitched. Instantly, he reached out and cupped his hands around hers as they held her cup of coffee, recognizing the panic attack of grief that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I mean it!” he insisted when she glared at him and tried to pull away. Was it just him or did it get twenty degrees warmer in here? _Cut it out, you bloody fucking arsehole! Weasley is barely cold in the ground._ He held her hands firmly in his. “I understand, Granger. I do. So do all these people in here. Everyone in this room has lost the witch or wizard they were married to. We all struggle with our friends and family not truly understanding what we’re going through. It’s why we’re here.” This seemed to calm her instantly as her gaze flicked from his, to the group of fifteen or so chatting amiably while they waited for Draco to start the meeting.

“Yeah?” She had calmed almost instantly when he had held her firmly in place; his words had dragged the fear and anxiety right out of her.

“Yeah.” He agreed, patting her hand and reluctantly letting her go. “You’ve come to the right place, little witch. C’mon, let’s find you a seat.” He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and guided her to mingle with the rest of the group.

* * *

** Mid-June 2012 **

**_“I wake up and teardrops they fall down like rain. I put on that old song we danced to and then I head off to my job, guess not much has changed. Punch the clock, head for home, check the phone, just in case, go to bed, dream of you…that’s what I’m doing these days.”***_ **

* * *

 

“Rose, please get down here!” Hermione called up the stairs. “Your cereal is going to be a mushy mess!”

“I’m not going!” Came the over-emotional reply of one Rose Granger-Weasley. “You can’t make me!”

Hermione felt her temper start to get the best of her and pushed it down with a firm metaphorical hand. Resigning herself, she started the trek upstairs to talk to her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she murmured, knocking lightly on Rose’s door before letting herself into her room. “What’s going…on. Oh, honey.” She caught her breath and tried to push back the tears that threatened. Rose was dressed and ready to go, her hair done up in pigtails with a blue bow on the left. Her daughter was laying on her belly in the middle of her bed, staring at the picture of herself and Ron that Hermione had blown up and framed to stay on her dresser. The two were smiling and waving at the camera before Rose plopped a messy kiss on her father’s cheek while he laughed. It had been done with the intention of helping her daughter grieve and to ensure she could always look at him whenever she needed too.

She moved to the edge of the bed. “Rosie, I know you miss Daddy,” she murmured, reaching out a hand to stroke the girl’s red head lovingly. “I know Daddy misses you, too.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she struggled to hold back the waterworks. Six weeks and it just felt like it was getting worse instead of better. How in the world was she supposed to survive this? It was too bloody hard.

She snuggled up to Rose, laying on her tummy by the tiny six-year-old girl and tossing an arm around her petite form. “Dominique and Albus will miss you so much if you don’t go to tutoring today. I know being with your cousins makes you feel better. Mummy feels better when I’m busy and doing my work, too.”

Rose sniffled, one little pointer finger tracing the glass over Ron’s half smile. “Does daddy not love me anymore?” Hermione’s heart shattered for what seemed like the millionth time in too short a while.

“Love bug, why would you ask such a thing? Your daddy loved you so, so much. You were his best girl.”

“How come he left us, mummy?” Her sweet little voice was so unsure.

“Oh, bug. C’mere.” She pulled the girl into her arms and sat them up on the bed, pulling her into her lap and squeezing her tight. “You know how Teddy’s mum and dad are gone, too? That they crossed over to the other side?”

She felt a little nod against her bosom and dropped a kiss on Rose’s head. “Daddy went there, too, sweetheart. He didn’t leave us because he wanted to, he left because he didn’t have a choice.”

“Because some bad people were mean and he got hurt really bad?” Hermione closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. _Oh, Gods, Ron. Please help me through this._

“That’s right, bug. You’ve got it right. If daddy could have stayed, he would have. He loved us so much. So very much.” Hermione ran her fingers up and down her daughter’s back soothingly until the little girl stopped sniffling. Then, she reached over to the nightstand to pull a couple of tissues out of a box. “Let’s wipe your nose, love.”

After she had Rose cleaned up, fed, and sent through the floo to Shell Cottage, she went to wake Hugo. Her poor babies. They were so lost without their father. Hugo had taken to horrible night terrors, reporting cloaked and hooded men in dark robes murdering his daddy night and after night. Hermione, herself, was having terrible dreams filled with loss and loneliness. She longed for a visit from Ron in her dreams. She would give just about anything for him to take her in his arms one more time, kiss her lips, pull on her curls. The hole in her heart was so large she didn’t know if she could ever fill it, but she tried.

Every day she made valiant efforts. Getting out of bed, showering, feeding and dressing her children, getting them to where they needed to be. She went to work and lost herself in her daily tasks. Coming home at the end of the day, she did school work, house work, made dinner, went shopping, paid the bills, maintained the yard, and the list went on. She had never truly realized how much Ron had done and felt terribly guilty for all the times she had nagged him. All of a sudden, it was her job to cut the grass, bring in the post, clean the fireplace, pay the bills, take out the trash, and so much more. These were all things she had taken for granted. She had always known they were a good team; had always known he did his fair share of the work. Now, she knew it without a doubt. All his work was now hers…on top of the work she already had.  Her hours disappeared if she blinked too often, and her brain never shut off. She went to bed every night with twenty things that hadn’t gotten done. Knowing the only way they would be accomplished was if she added them to the list the next day.

She was, quite frankly, overwhelmed beyond reason and contemplating hiring help. Maybe someone to cook and clean? She even thought of applying for a house elf. One that she would pay, of course.

At least that part was okay. The loss of Ron’s income had been made up with his death benefits. They would last her at least the next ten years. It was the only thing she didn’t have to worry about. Not that it mattered, the financial security meant nothing without Ron. She’d trade away every penny to have him back.

She dropped Hugo at nursery and made her way to the lifts to start her work day. At 8:50 in the morning, she had already been up for five hours, with many, many more to go before she could sleep.

* * *

** Mid-August 2012 **

**_“I always needed time on my own. I never thought that I’d need you there when I cry. And the days feel like years when I’m alone and the bed where you lie is made up on your side. Everything that I do reminds me of you. And the clothes you left they lie on the floor and they smell just like you..”*_ **

* * *

 

Hermione’s wand vibrated on her dresser, the green number blinking through the dark. 3:45 … 3:45 … 3:45. She said the incantation to set it to snooze, but it didn’t matter, she was awake. She wasn’t sure if she had slept at all. She had successfully gotten Hugo back into his own room three weeks ago, the nightmares had finally abated to only one or two a week. With her son where he belonged, her bed was just so very … empty. Rolling onto her hip, she spread her fingers over her husband’s side of the mattress. It was made up, pillow sham still in place. She smoothed her palm over the bedding, tears sliding down her nose to drip off the upturned tip and onto her lips. She could taste their saltiness. Rolling the other way, she let her eyes fall to the pile of dirty laundry Ron had left right next to the hamper the day he had been taken from her. She hadn’t had the heart to wash them. The shirt still smelled like him a little bit and she knew soon enough that, too, would be gone. Hugo had taken his smell from their bed. She had worn his robe so much that it smelled like herself, now, and not him.

Every day she lost him a little more. Molly and Ginny had insisted on cleaning out his side of the closet, his dresser, his medicine cabinet, and the coat closet. They donated his clothing and shoes, robes, and cloaks. She had flown into a rage of grief and yelled and screamed at them when they had tried to take the pile of dirty clothes from the floor and to pack away his robe. They had let her have her way, encasing her in their loving arms until her hysterical tears had calmed.

They had helped her pack away his keepsakes and the journal he had kept from their time on the run in seventh year and the delluminator Dumbledore had bequeathed him. Those items were stored in impenetrable charmed boxes in the attic. She had insisted on saving his things for their children to go through when they were older. Something so they could get to know him better. She had given his broom to Harry. His wedding ring was boxed and tucked into her jewelry armoire, waiting for the day his son married. Hermione’s wedding set stayed where it belonged, on her ring finger. Right now, she didn’t think she’d ever take them off. She would love him forever.

Pretty soon, all that would be left would be photographs and memories. She wasn’t sure it would be enough. Her wand buzzed again and she muttered the incantation to reset it for the next day as she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled into the shower. She let the hot water sooth away her fatigue before starting her morning chores. By seven in the morning, she had chewed through two pieces of toast, downed half a pot of coffee, and had bills and a grocery list completed. They were ready for her to take care of when she was done with work at the end of the day.

She got up from the table to stretch before she began making breakfast and was startled when she heard a loud _crack_ from outside, someone was in their yard at the apparition point. Picking up her wand, she held it loose and ready – just in case – before making her way to the back door. Peering out the curtained window, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was Harry and Ginny.

She pulled open the door with a small smile. “Hello, you two. I wasn’t expecting you!”

“We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast!” Harry held up a bag of fast food and Hermione laughed. Ginny had become obsessed with the sausage muffins during her pregnancy with Lily and it had never gone away.

“The kids will love it, and I won’t have a mountain of breakfast dishes to do!” She chuckled again and opened the door all the way to let them pass. “Where are your kids?”

“Dropped them at mum’s, she wanted to feed them a big breakfast before tutoring and dad’s going to take Lily to nursery,” Ginny answered with a flip of her hand.

Harry and Ginny set the table while she went and woke the kids. Helping with their teeth and hair before she sent them downstairs for their surprise. She grinned to herself when she heard the excited squeals of greeting while she flipped her wand to make the beds and straighten toys.

She made her way to join them a few minutes later, but paused on the steps as she caught the low voices of her sister-in-law and best friend. “She looks like a walking inferi,” Ginny was mumbling. “How much longer can they go on like this?”

“I think she’s doing fine, Gin. We need to give her some time. They were together for fifteen years! Friends for longer!”

“She walks around like she’s under the Imperius Curse. She’s just existing, Harry. It’s not healthy,” she protested quietly. Hermione had to strain to hear them. What she wouldn’t give for some extendable ears right about now.

“What do you suggest we do?” Harry sounded exasperated.

“Set her up on a date,” Ginny replied firmly.

“That’s ridiculous. Ron has only been gone for three and half month, Gin. She’s not ready to date.”

“She needs something for herself, Harry!”

“She does, but dating isn’t it. Not yet, anyway. If it were me and you were gone, I don’t think I’d be doing half as well as she is.”

“That’s because you’re a man. I would tell you to date, too, if I could.”

Hermione listened to their hushed tones, leaning up against the wall at the bottom of the steps. She leaned her head back and tried not to groan. If Ginny was getting a wand up her arse about something, she would be forced into it no matter how uninterested she was.

She tiptoed back up the stairs and trotted down loudly. When she entered the kitchen, they both looked up at her from opposite sides of the room and grinned.

“Hungry?”

“I’m not, thanks anyway.” Ginny frowned and Harry looked her up and down. It made her defensive. “I’ve been up for a while. I’ve already had some toast.”

“You’ve lost weight, Hermione.”

“I realize that, but I’m fine. Things will even out, I’m sure.”

“You look tired. Can we take the kids this weekend? You could catch up on some rest.” Harry’s offer was polite, but she had no desire to spend an entire weekend alone. That would be bloody awful.

“No, we’ll be okay. I was planning to take them to the menagerie this weekend. Do you and the kids want to join us?”

Her friends glanced at each other and then back to her. “We could do that.” Ginny answered. “I still think you need a day. Let me book you at the spa?”

“No. Thank you, Gin. You know I don’t care for all that simpering, pampering stuff.”

Silence.

“Hermione…” It was Harry who started this time.

“Please don’t, Harry.” Hermione crossed the room and started fumbling with her Muggle coffee pot. Nothing tasted better than a cup made just the way her mum use to.

“We’re just worried for you.”

“Damnit!” In a very uncharacteristic outburst, Hermione swore, making both children gape at her with wide eyes. “Up to your rooms, now! Please get yourselves dressed. Clothes are on your beds,” she exclaimed at them. “Hurry!” She watched them scuttle out of the room and heard them thundering up the stairs.  
  
“You have got to stop coddling me!” She turned on her friends. “You have to stop! I will never be strong enough to move on if you keep tip-toeing around me. I’ll never get it all done for myself if you’re always here helping me. I can do this just fine, and I’ll thank you both to remember that!”

“Hermione!” Ginny scolded, eyes flashing. “Sometimes I think you forget that _we all_ lost him! I lost a brother, Harry lost his best friend! My parents lost _another child_. We all just want to help you.”

“You have no idea what I’m going through.” Hermione’s voice was cold, devoid of all emotion. If she let her anger take hold, she’d lose all sense of control. “Yes, you lost him, too. It’s not the same, though, Ginny.” Her anger grew as the redhead threw her a scandalized look. “It’s _not_. I lost my _husband! The father of my children!_ It’s not in your face every single day. You miss him, yes, but it comes and goes, doesn’t it? It’s not engrained into everything you do. Am I right?  
  
“You don’t wake up to half your bed empty. You’re not soothing a four-year-old in the middle of the night after he has nightmares that his daddy was murdered. You’re not trying to explain to your six-year-old that daddy can’t come back – but _of course he still loves you!_

“You don’t go through the motions every single day hoping…just _hoping_ that they’ll become familiar again. That you’ll feel safe again. That it won’t make your breath hitch with loss when you make a bed, or wash only one coffee cup.

“You don’t wake up in the middle of the night with a start, hoping it was just some God-awful dream. You’re not just _existing._ You don’t…you don’t…” She was gasping for breath as the dam broke and angry, hurt tears flooded her face.  
  
“You don’t know what it’s like to think no one is ever going to touch you again. That no one will ever make your body feel alive again. Make you explode with desire and passion that only a lover can bring. I feel dead, my body feels dormant. No one but my children has done more than brush my arm in over a month. Do you know what I miss the most? Hugging him. Having him hug me. I miss feeling safe in his arms! So much!

“You have _no clue_ what it’s like to watch your best friend, lover, and center of your u-universe be put into the gr-ground and wish with all your being you could go with him. You have no idea how hopeless it feels to know that if you fall apart, you’ll drag two defenseless, broken ch-children down with you.” She was positively ugly crying at this point. “I’m so tired of trying to be perfect.”

Ginny had tears streaming down her face and was hugging herself tightly, leaning up against the counter. Harry had gone deathly silent and sat at the table with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with his grief.

She watched the scene before her, trying to stem her own tears. They truly didn’t understand. They cared about her; they were trying to be here for her. They missed Ron, and they loved him. They were worried, and she loved them so much for it, but they just did not get it. “It’s been three and a half months. I thought it was supposed to get easier.” She was blubbering through her sentences at this point. After a few minutes, she had calmed somewhat.

“Guys…” she whispered. They both looked at her. Tearful and pleading faces were begging to know what they could do to help. “It’s not getting better. Why isn’t it getting any easier?” They were across the room in a moment, Harry sending the chair crashing to the floor in his haste. They pulled her to them, crushing her. She let them hold her while she blew apart at the seams.

* * *

  **August 2012**  

* * *

Fucking Ginny. The bloody witch guilted her into this. It was the last freaking place she wanted to be on a Wednesday night. She heaved a sigh and looked down at the lilac colored pamphlet. Spouse-loss Support Group. Ginny had heard about it through a friend who was a Mediwitch at St. Mungo’s. She had insisted Hermione go and got Harry to back her up. Then, they took her children for the evening so she wouldn’t have an excuse. Standing outside the little ma and pa café in Diagon Alley, she tried to screw her courage to the sticking point. Did she really want to be in a room filled with widows and widowers?

She had promised Ginny she would try it every week for a month. _Might as well go in and get it over with._ She pushed open the glass fronted door and was greeted by a portly, elderly witch who reminded her of everyone’s favorite grandmother. Explaining why she was there, Hermione witnessed a sympathetic smile from the old witch before she was pointed to a door at the back of the dining room.

She felt like she was marching to her death as she zigzagged her way through the mostly empty tables. Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves and pushed. There was quite the crowd in the room, to her astonishment. When the door closed with a loud clunk behind her, she jumped in surprise and turned back to it before glancing to the circle of people chattering as they sat on the chairs that were provided. No one was paying her one bit of attention. Her gaze continued to roam the room and she froze, taking in the tall, pale, blond-haired man. He looked familiar…

_Oh, my God._ She reached up to pluck at a curl as nerves took over. It was Malfoy. As in Draco Malfoy. The boy who had attempted to make most of her existence at Hogwarts miserable. Glancing back at the group, she was seriously thinking about bolting. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip and she started to chew worriedly. Damnit, she wasn’t going to let him chase her away! She started walking towards him.

“Malfoy?” she said hesitantly. She watched a small smirk quirk the corner of his mouth and felt a bit annoyed.

“Hey, Granger.” It was said with…kindness? He was being nice? He certainly was nice looking. Her eyes swept down his body before fixing again on his face. Beautiful was the more appropriate word. Draco Malfoy was a beautiful man. _What the hell are you thinking, you chit?!_ she scolded herself hotly.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Draco gestured to the cart. “Most people are so wiped by this time of the evening they find the pick me up refreshing.”

Hermione dropped surprised eyes to the tray and then flicked them back up to meet his. _The hell is he playing at? Him being nice is very off putting. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out how to make an arse out of me._ “What’s the catch?”

His brow wrinkled as if he was confused. “Catch?”

“Yeah, the catch. You’re going to dump it on me?” She frowned at him and crossed her arms suspiciously. The look that crossed his face made her resolve deflate a little bit. Was that hurt? Had she hurt his feelings? Did Draco-freaking-Malfoy even have any feelings? What the _hell_ was he doing here anyway?

Draco raised his hands as if to show he was apologetic. “No catch, Granger!” he insisted. “Just a cup of coffee.” His expression was innocent, but she narrowed her eyes at him anyway. He seemed…genuine. Giving a little sigh, she let her arms drop to her sides.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m nervous, my emotions are high. I guess old habits do die hard. I’d love some coffee.”

He gave a light chuckle that made her stomach turn over a bit. _Stop it. It’s just a pretty face. He’s a total arsehole and you know it_. He was talking again; Hermione forced herself to pay attention. “Forgiven. No worries. I’ve grown up a bit, though. Haven’t purposely spilled anything on someone in years.” He tossed her a crooked grin (another tummy flip) as he handed her a cup of coffee after dropping a dollop of cream and a sugar cube in it.

_What the bloody hell?_ She was absolutely dumbfounded as she took the perfectly prepared cup from him. “How in the world do you know how I like my coffee?”

“Uhm…” He cleared his throat, a light flush blooming across his cheeks. _Hmm, curious._ “Lucky guess?”

_Yeah, right._ She kept her face neutral. “Very lucky!” She couldn’t seem to help the small smile that crossed her face, though. Who knew the guy could be…nice?

“You do know where you are, right, Granger?” Draco asked her softly. She didn’t even know Malfoy knew the word sympathy, but his voice was flooded with it. “You do mean to be here?” Just like that, she felt her walls slam into place; she raised the barbed wire at the top with a snap of her imaginary wand. _Don’t let your bloody guard down with this arsehole, Granger. He’ll eat you for lunch._

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she hissed. She knowingly made her tone angry. Not realizing all of the other emotions she let through, Hermione wondered why his eyes had gone all soft and his face melted into a mask of understanding.

“My family has asked me to give it a try. I don’t know what good it will do, but I’m trying not to disappoint. Harry and Ginny are worried about me. No one under…understands…” She took a deep breath as her voice hitched. _Fuck. Do not cry in front of Malfoy._

She just about dropped her cup of coffee because of the trembling in her fingers, when he reached out and cupped his hands around hers.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He said, she tried to jerk away from him. “I mean it!” Draco held her hands firmly in his and she felt a rising panic. She didn’t want him to touch her. The heat of his hands over hers felt so wrong. “I understand, Granger. I do. So do all these people in here. Everyone in this room has lost the witch or wizard they were married to. We all struggle with our friends and family not truly understanding. It’s why we’re here.” She froze at this statement. Everyone in this room? What? Malfoy’s wife died? How had she missed that tidbit of information?

“Yeah?” Suddenly, she felt calm. A wave of peace slipped through her, warming her to her toes. It was the first time she had felt truly warm in months.  

“Yeah.” He patted her hand before letting her go. “You’ve come to the right place, little witch.” _Little witch? Hmph! I’ll show you a little witch._ It took effort not to glare at him.

“C’mon, let’s find you a seat.” He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and she resisted the urge to pull away from the warm, reassuring feeling. No one had touched her like this in months. Guiding her to mingle with the rest of the group, he led them to two open chairs and gestured for her to take a seat before settling himself next to her to her right.

Looking around, she tried to figure out who the group leader was. Her eyes widened in realization, mouth popping open like a fish out of water, when Draco started to speak.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” His deep tenor voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter and everyone turned their attention to him. She was impressed with his commanding presence.

There was a chorus of “Good evening’s” and “doing good’s” before the chatter died down.

“There are actually a couple new faces tonight, so I’d like to start by going around the circle and having you introduce yourself. Tell us a little something about you and your spouse’s name. If you’re comfortable sharing how they passed, please do that, too.” He paused, meeting a few different sets of eyes before adding. “I’ll start. I’m Draco Malfoy, I run this group voluntarily through St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I’ve headed this group for the last six months, but I’ve been coming almost two years.” Hermione had to stifle her gasp of surprise before he continued.

“I lost my wife, Astoria, a little over six years ago. She had complications with the birth of our son, Scorpius. An aneurysm in her brain ruptured, she died quickly.”

Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes as her heart went out for him. _How bloody terrible!_ A new perspective flooded her thoughts. _At least I had time. Two children. Ron got to watch them grow a little._ She fumbled with her bag for some tissues, but Malfoy beat her to it. Handing her a box of tissues without looking at her, he paid attention as the next few people were introducing themselves. She took it gratefully, pulled a handful of tissues out of it and continued to pass it to her left.

One woman had lost her Muggle husband in a car accident. Another of terminal disease. A very elderly man, who had to be in his early hundreds, lost his wife of eighty-two years. She had died peacefully in her sleep. There were two other witches in the room who had lost their husbands in the explosion on May second. She was going to be a blubbering mess before the night was done, but she wasn’t the only one who was tearful.  

When it was her turn she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Last was a hard place to be. “I’m Hermione Granger.” There was an audible gasp around the room as her name was recognized and she ducked her head. How had it escaped her mind that these people were going to know who she was? She tried to make a joke out of it. “Yes – that Hermione Granger. No, it wasn’t as cool as the history books make it out to be.” A faint chuckled rippled around the room. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old mom of two. Rose is six and Hugo is four. My husband, Ron, was killed in the attack on May second, as well.” She met the eyes of the other two witches whose spouses had also been killed that day. “We would be celebrating our ten-year anniversary next week…if…” She swallowed. “Anyway. We had been best friends since our first year at Hogwarts, so technically we’d been together almost twenty-one years.” She gave a watery smile and avoided looking at everyone.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Malfoy said softly and she gave a slight nod, surprised he had used her given name. Then she sat back and listened. Listened as a half dozen people talked about their day to day struggles, finding herself nodding and exclaiming along with the group. Found herself sympathizing and understanding all too well what everyone was feeling. Some of her own feelings gained words she hadn’t been able to find before this night.. When the hour was up, she sat in her chair as most of the other’s milled around, talking and laughing together. Some had left quickly, but most were chattering with others like they were great friends. Malfoy was back at the coffee cart seeing everyone off as they left.

The relief that she felt in her soul was palpable. Every person she met tonight knew exactly how she was feeling. They all knew what she was going through. Even if their stories varied, they had one thing in common – they had lost their other half.

The room cleared out slowly and soon only she, Malfoy and a couple of others were left. She checked her watch and decided she had to get going. She gathered her things and started walking towards the door.

“Hey Granger?” Malfoy called out. She looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re all right?”

She nodded slowly.

“We’ll see you next week?”

“Yes, I believe you will.” He gave her a small smile and a wave and she returned the gesture with a dip of her head before exiting the small party room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“When You’re Gone” Written by Avril Lavigne, Butch Walker, and Jesse Welch. Performed by Avril Lavigne from her album The Best Damn Thing.  
> **Horsley, Gloria. 10 Places Grieving Widows Can Get Help. The Blog. Huffington Post. 26 Aug 2015. Web. 13 June 2017.  
> *** “These Days” Written by Jeffrey Steele, Steve Robson, and Danny Wells. Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album Melt.


	3. Feels Like Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** I know it's been so long since I've updated this. For those of you who follow me as an author, you know why. I've been very focused on AHEA and MM. This has been calling to me again, lately. So here is the next installment. So much love for your reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. xxLissaDream
> 
>  
> 
> **Betas:** SnowBlind12 - Co-author to Master Mine and my best friend. Check out her stories.  
>  LadyKardasi - structural and grammar beta - I'm so thankful for you!

* * *

** Chapter Three **   
**Feels Like Today**   
**September 13 th, 2012**   
**_“I woke up this morning with this feeling inside me that I can’t explain. Like a weight that I’ve carried has been carried away…away. I know something is coming, I don’t know what it is but I know it’s amazing, it can save me. My time is coming, I can find my way out of this longest route.”*_**

* * *

 “You seem…different,” Narcissa cocked her head at Draco, watching her son bathe her grandson.

“How do you mean?” Draco’s eyebrows shot up as he gestured for Scorpius to turn in the tub so he could scrub his hair.

“You know, I can do this myself, Dad,” the six-year-old complained haughtily. Draco almost laughed, the kid was his spitting image right down to the pretentious scowl that once lived fixedly on his face.

“You keep making that face and it will stick permanently,” he teased as Scorpius obligingly spun in the tub and tilted his head back for scrubbing. “I should know, mine was stuck like that for almost twenty years. It took finding your mum to put it right.”

“My mum was beautiful,” Scorpius sighed wistfully. “Wasn’t she?”

“Stunning,” Draco agreed with a small smile on his face.

“Lighter.” Narcissa finally said from the doorway.

“Huh?” Draco, wrapped up in his child, hadn’t even remembered that he’d been speaking to his mother.

“You seem lighter. Hopeful…oh! Draco!” He looked up at her in cautious surprise, that tone could go either way. “You’ve _met_ someone! Someone good!” She clapped her hands in excitement.

“No, mother. No.” He tried to look at her in the eyes, but she would know instantly that he was lying.

“Draco!” Her eagerness grew tenfold. “Tell me now. Who?”

“I will tell you if anything comes of it,” he sighed heavily, pouring a small metal pitcher of water over the gangly blond boy’s head. “And mother?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“If anything comes of it, it will be very, very slowly. Do not pester me.” He felt he laced the appropriate amount of threat into his voice, but as usual Narcissa Malfoy brushed aside that which she did not wish to hear.

“Why slow?”

“Daddy? Can I have my grindylows now?”

“Because I met her at group, and her husband has only been dead months. She will need time. Here you go bud,” Draco responded to Scorpius after replying to his mother, dumping in a bucket of small grindylow figures which instantly leapt to life at contact with the water. Scorpius dove down into the bath and started directing their warfare.

Narcissa’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “She was married?”

Draco rolled his eyes and stood. Wiping his hands on a towel, he smirked at his son’s antics. “Does it matter? I was married.”

“But, Draco. You should marry someone young and unattached.”

“Sweet Merlin, mother. I’m not marrying anyone! I’d like to ask her out on a date, but I think it needs to wait. She…she probably won’t be receptive of me anyway.” He grimaced as soon as he said it, knowing this would only prompt more questions.

“Who wouldn’t want to date you? You’re beautiful, successful, powerful…not to mention beyond well-to-do.” _Narcissa Malfoy, witches and wizards – shallow as shallow can be._ He felt guilty even as the words tumbled through his mind. He loved his mother, she was a good woman.

“We knew each other in school.” He heard himself saying to his utter horror. “I wasn’t exactly nice to her.”

This made Narcissa pause, her eyes narrowed as she appraised her son thoughtfully. “Why does you saying that fill me with a sense of dread, Draco?”

He felt his eyes close of their own accord in order to hide his immediate frustration. He was not getting into this with her. Not now. Not before he’d even asked the bloody witch out for coffee, which he was planning on doing after next week’s meeting – if she was there. He was pretty sure she would be, she had attended the last four faithfully. He had been thrilled to see her again and again and she seemed to really be gleaning strength from the group. He had gone out of his way to talk to her before and after every meeting. At the last one, they had stood at the coffee cart chattering for almost forty minutes after group had ended. Only when the restaurant proprietor had come in to let them know they’d been closing in twenty minutes and requested to take the coffee cart away to dismantle and clean did they even realize how long they’d been talking. Horrified, she had stared at her watch open-mouthed, shocked that the time had passed so quickly he presumed. He had been a little more than baffled himself.

She had muttered something about being late to pick up kids and that Ginny was going to kill her, or be horribly excited it had taken her so long to get home (which confused him further) before giving him a quick hug (which had almost made him fall over in shock) and shouting she’d see him the next week. She had disappeared in a swirl of bushy brown curls and a honeysuckle-jasmine scent that was heady and intoxicating.

“Draco?” His mother was looking at him, a frown tugging the corners of her perfectly painted pout. “Who is she?”

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “If she agrees to go out with me, and I successfully take her out for at least six weeks, I will introduce you to her. Just like every other woman I’ve ever dated. Before then, you needn’t worry about a thing because it doesn’t exist.”

* * *

  **September 19 th, 2012**

* * *

 

Hermione replayed the conversation she had with Draco after the last meeting over and over in her mind all week. It had gotten to the point where she was staring off into space during work. _During work!_ She never got distracted in the office. She loved what she did. It was rewarding, empowering, good work.

Her mind wandered, again, back to the way he’d asked so sincerely how she was doing. How he had inquired after her kids – calling them by their names! He had smiled so easily, showing off straight, even, white teeth. Gods, he had great teeth. She remembered the way he had run his hand through his short locks with his other hand shoved in his pocket like he was self-conscious while talking about his son with eyes shining like polished silver.  

She shook herself again. This had to stop. Sodding Draco Malfoy was getting under her skin – big time. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and she knew it. For all she knew, he was this way with all the widows who came to group. She wondered how many of the other woman of the group he had sweet talked into his bed. She sighed. It would be best if she distanced herself from him. It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was, she wouldn’t find herself another one of his conquests. He might be beautiful, he might even seem sweet. Yes, he’d lost his wife. Yes, it was obvious he loved his son. She remembered who he really was, though. A highly prejudiced ass hat who had tormented her for years. She sighed and resigned herself to finishing her work day – forcing grey eyes and gleaming smiles out of her mind.

Two hours later she had Hugo and Lily and was frog marching them to the floo only to pop unceremoniously out of the Potter’s fireplace.

“Hey, ‘Mi!” Ginny called, not looking up from the pan she was frying hamburger in. “How’re you doing today?”

“It’s been a good day,” she answered with a smile as her friend flashed her a smile. “You’re sure you’re okay with keeping the kids again tonight? I can set up something with a sitter for group nights, you know.”

“I know you could, but I want them here.” Ginny’s words were sincere.

“ _We_ want them here.” Hermione smiled at Harry’s adamant statement as he joined them in the kitchen, taking over with Hugo as Lily fought for her mother’s attention. “We love having them.”

“You guys are the best. I just have some errands to run. Rose needs some new shoes and socks and Hugo’s jacket is too small - it’s starting to get cool, so he needs a new one. Then, I need to stop at Flourish and Blotts. I’ll grab some dinner at the café group is held at. I should be back here by eight fifteen-ish?”

“Mmm, unless you get held up again by Mr. Mysterious…” Ginny waggled her eyebrows and Harry’s head shot up in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he sounded horrified.

“It’s nothing,” Hermione insisted. “Our group leader is wonderful. He lost his wife about six years ago. We were just talking afterwards last time and got a little caught up, I lost track of the time.”

“She thinks he’s hot!” Ginny giggled.

“What’s hot, mom?” Lily asked Ginny, tugging on her apron.

“The pan is hot, Lil-bug,” Ginny grinned down at her daughter as Harry guffawed. “Why don’t you and Hugo go find the big kids to play?”

“Kay, mummy,” Rose answered with a smile.

Once the kids disappeared, calling for James and Rose and Albus as they went, Hermione responded. “How do you know I think he’s hot?” she asked, voice tinged with amusement.  
  
 Harry rounded on Hermione, not letting his wife respond. . “Who is he?”

The smile that was on Hermione’s face slipped a bit and Ginny gave a sound of protest at the tone of her husband’s voice. “Harry!” she scolded.

“Ron’s barely been dead four months and you’re already thinking about dating?” His tone was accusatory and Hermione’s eyes filled with tears instantaneously.

“It’s not like that, Harry!” she whispered vehemently. “He’s just an acquaintance. We share something you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“I couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to lose someone I love?” Harry was incredulous. Tears broke the dam of her lower lashes and slipped down her face.

“That’s quite enough, Harry Potter!” Ginny exclaimed, rounding furiously on her husband when she realized Hermione couldn’t continue the conversation due to her tears. “It’s just flirting! Isn’t that right, Hermione?”

“It’s not even that!” Hermione was absolutely done with this conversation, anger was starting to replace her hurt. “He’s the leader of the damned grief group you both forced me to attend. We get along – okay? He’s intelligent and funny and I can tell him what I’m feeling and _he knows_. He knows, you guys, because he’s been through it, too.”

Dashing her finger tips across her cheeks to dispel the wetness, she glared. “If you can’t be supportive of me, Harry James Potter, you can go to hell. I will not put up with this from you. I have enough shit on my plate! If I’m ready to date, I’m going to date! To ease your mind, though? _I am not ready!_ ”

Harry looked momentarily stunned with the anger and vehemence coming from his longtime friend. His surprised expression slowly melted and became a sheepish embarrassment. “Hermione, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That was…what I just did…well. I’m sorry.”

She gave a short jerk of her head to let him know she heard him. “I need to go if I’m going to have enough time to get everything done. You’re still sure it’s fine for the kids to stay?”

Harry looked affronted at her statement and Ginny looked very sad. “Of course it’s okay, Hermione. You’re our family,” Ginny replied softly.

“Right, then,” Hermione answered. “I’ll see you a bit after eight.”

Without giving her customary hugs, and ignoring Harry’s outstretched hand as he attempted to make amends, she turned and flooed to the Leaky Cauldron so she could get to Diagon Alley. She needed to complete her errands.

* * *

Draco was a bit confused with Hermione’s standoffish personality this evening. He had greeted her warmly, a cup of coffee ready for her. She had accepted the coffee with a word of thanks, but hadn’t met his eyes. There was a frown on her face that made him uncomfortable. Something had happened. Saddened by her demeanor, and being she was once again the last person to arrive, he went to place a hand at the small of her back as he had done a few times before. She flinched away from him as if he burned her, and he pulled back quickly, startled. Still refusing to look at him, she quickly took a seat. There had only been three open; two were together and one was sandwiched between Greg and Alison. He was dismayed when she chose to sit away from him. They had been sitting together since she had started coming.

When group was wrapping up, he watched her quickly gather her things. “Granger, could you stay a moment?” he called. She halted in her tracks, halfway to the door. Why was she running off like this? Damn! He had thought they were getting on so well. She gave a curt nod and moved over to the coffee cart. While he was chatting with some of the others, he attempted to watch her conspicuously out of the corner of his eye. She was fidgeting in a chair beside the coffee card. Alternately picking at her fingernails or pulling coils of curls straight only to watch them spring back into place – all the while chewing on her bottom lip. He thought the room would never clear out.

Hermione was watching him warily as he approached her. He carded a hand through is hair, noting he’d need a cut soon.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” he asked softly, pulling a chair up to sit opposite of her. “You’re not yourself tonight.”

Startled, she looked at him with wide eyes for a moment. Then they narrowed. Yikes! That was not a look to be on the receiving end of - suspicion, anger, resentment. He wondered what the hell he had done wrong.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?” Her voice was cool and much too calm for his taste.

“Um.” He cleared his throat and then swallowed nervously. “I’m…I’m not quite sure what you mean.” He was finally able to get out.

“How would you know I’m not myself?” she snipped, turning her nose up. “It’s not like you really know who I am! _And_ you have _no_ right to call me Hermione. None at all. Granger, if you please.”

Draco was caught off guard. He hadn’t even realized that he had addressed her informally. Concern had taken away all but his inner-most thoughts. He wanted to comfort her. “Hey,” he said softly. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I have no desire to upset you, but…well. Can you at least let me know what I did so I can try and fix it?”

Her mouth fell open with a wet pop, being she had still been nibbling her bottom lip in between chastisements. He had absolutely stunned her. If the situation hadn’t been so damned serious, he would have laughed at her expression. Then his heart sank as her face crumpled, she quickly leaned forward to cover it with her hands while she braced her elbows on her knees. Curtains of her springy, wild, frizzy curls fell around her, effectively blocking her from his view. The sob that choked out of her strangled his heart and made it hard to breathe.

Gods, he remembered these days. How foolish was he? Thinking she might go for coffee with him? _Idiot!_

“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, it’s okay.” He reached out to touch her, but stopped himself. Something had happened to make her not want him near her. It probably wouldn’t help for him to touch her. “Granger, it’s okay.” He sat forward in his chair, elbows on his knees.

She looked up for a moment and he reached out both hands to her, palms up. Sniffling, she looked from his hands to his face. He hoped he projected nothing but sincerity. After a moment, she put both her hands in his. He curled his fingers around hers and squeezed. “Do you need to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, tears still spilling down her cheeks. One curl was plastered against her left cheek, caught in the dampness of her grief. “I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s fine,” he told her. “It’s okay if you can’t. Do you need a hug?” His heart was racing. Gods, he just wanted to make her feel better. Seeing this strong, independent woman broken down like this was awful. She seemed to freeze for a moment, eyes flashing to his, then a fresh wave of tears started as another sob broke free from her chest.

He didn’t wait for her permission. Standing, he pulled her up with him and wrapped her up in his arms. She held herself stiffly, and it was awkward for a moment before the torrents of anguish overtook her entirely and she melted into him, pressing her face into his chest as she wept. He just held her, the two of them standing in the back of the meeting room. He felt her arms slide around his back, her hands bunching the material of his shirt in her fists. One of Draco’s arms were wrapped around the middle of her back and he was holding the nape of her neck in his other hand, brushing soft circles over her hair, trying to sooth. He held himself cautiously, wanting to bury his nose into the hair on the crown of her head. Knowing that she would probably not like that at all, he refrained.  

Damnit, but she was little. Fuck if she didn’t fit in his arms like she was made for them. Gasping in a deep breath, her sobs seemed to dissipate a little. She stayed in his arms, though, sniffling as he continued to brush his fingers over the hair at her neck. After a couple more moments, Hermione pulled away from him. He let her go reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to keep her there.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her voice was husky with her tears. Her face was wet and her nose was dribbling. He snorted mentally. _Okay, not a pretty crier._ That hardly mattered, though. She looked like she was feeling a bit better.

“You didn’t need that. How embarrassing,” she whispered, not looking at him.

Taking a chance, he reached out and grasped her shoulder. “Stop,” he told her firmly. Her eyes locked with his. The pain was deep, it was like looking into a grave. He sucked in a breath. “Granger, did something happen? Are your kids okay?”

She searched his eyes with her own. Not knowing what she was looking for, he concentrated on just showing her he was being genuine.  
  
She broke their gaze. “My kids are fine.” The answer came after a long, intense moment. “Harry and I had a fight. It was a misunderstanding, but it was still hurtful. I know he’s heartbroken, too. He and Ron were so…so close.” Tears again and he watched her with renewed respect as she dashed them away from her eyes and squared her shoulders. Grabbing a napkin off the coffee cart, she used it to blot her eyes and then blew her nose. She tossed the napkin into the garbage and then used her wand to clean her hands before she looked at him again before her eyes darted away.

“Malfoy, have you dated anyone since your wife died?” It was said in a rush, with pink cheeks and no eye contact. His heart stuttered for a moment.

The answer came slow. “Yes…” He paused, trying to gage where she was going with this line of questioning.

She looked up then. “How long?”

_Ah…_ He was stupidly disappointed. “I went out on the occasional date here and there in those first couple years. There were a couple one-night stands. I never met anyone I wanted to pursue anything with. It was almost four years before I had what I would consider a relationship. It lasted a few months. There’s been one more since then. Nothing’s ever been…right.”

He watched her as he spoke. Watched her face drain of the color she had left. Watched her hand touch her forehead as if she were getting a headache. “You waited four years before you had a real relationship?” She sounded so sad it made his breath catch.

“No. Listen, Granger.” He ducked his head to catch her eyes again. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, tip her chin up. _Get a grip, man_. “You’re ready when _you’re_ ready! Is this what Potter and you fought about?”

She gave a jerky nod of her head.

“Have…have you met someone?” Jesus, was that his voice? It was positively strangled. _Gods, I hope she didn’t notice that. Well, fuck. Maybe I waited_ too _long!_

“ _No_!” It came out vehement and furious, with a touch of hysteria.

“Okay!” He held up his hands and took a step back, trying to placate her. He couldn’t help the relief that flooded him. “It’s all right, Granger. It would be okay if you had! There’s nothing wrong with you not being ready. Breathe!”

Her eyes were wild, a single tear streamed out of the left one. She took his advice and sucked in a deep, strangled breath.

“Listen to me,” he said again. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved and taken care of. Your children deserve to have a man in their lives that is going to respect you and care for them and be there for all of you. When you meet him – you _deserve_ to have him. I know I’m probably not the right person to tell you this, but I don’t think for a minute that Weasley would want you to be alone for the rest of your life. You’re so young!

“I saw you two that last year we were in school, after the war. He loved you, Granger. He wouldn’t want you to shut yourself off for the rest of your life.” By the time he finished his little speech, he was embarrassed and avoiding her eyes. _Merlin – why don’t you just tell her straight out how you feel? Could you be more obvious?_ One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other nervously toying with his hair. She was quiet. Too quiet. He chanced a peek at her.

Hermione’s face had smoothed out. While her eyes were still bright, the tears had stopped. Her chin was raised. She looked…triumphant. “You’re right,” she said softly. “Ron wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone and sad. He would have wanted me to be happy.”

Draco gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. No longer feeling self-conscious, he dropped his hand. She startled him when she stepped closer to him and pulled him in for another hug. “Thanks, Malfoy,” she murmured.

Too surprised to speak, he just squeezed her back and nodded when she pulled away. She smiled as she turned away to gather her bag. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah, Granger. Next week.”

* * *

  **September 28 th, 2012**  
**_“You treat life like a picture, but it’s not a moment that’s frozen in time. It’s not going to wait ‘til you make up your mind at all. So while this storm is breaking while there’s light at the end of a tunnel. Keep running towards it, releasing the pressure that’s your heartache, so this dam will break.” *_**

* * *

 

“Pleeeaaase, Mum? Please can we go to the playground?” Rose begged, pulling on Hermione’s arm. It was Friday, work was done, tutoring was done. She had finished the shopping and errands… _why not._

After the war, a nice little playground and picnic area had been incorporated into the layout of Diagon Alley, tucked near Gringotts. It was done in effort to bring some green into the bustling district and for there to be a family-friendly place for little ones to burn off some energy. It was a beautiful Indian summer day.

“Yes, Rose, we can go to the park for a while.” Hugo and Rose both crowed with delight and started dancing around her in circles, giggling madly. Hermione felt a tug of a smile on her lips. It was so nice to see their joy. They had all been so sad for too long.

It didn’t take them long to make their way to the park. Hermione eyed Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour as they passed it, thinking that might be a nice treat. Maybe they’d even make a game out of it and have a bean feast for dinner. Having a fun, kid-friendly evening would be a pleasant way to start the weekend.

Rose and Hugo broke away from her when they were only about a half of a block away from the park and she let them go with a watchful eye. So focused was she on her children, she didn’t see the white-blond headed man sitting on the park bench, one arm stretched along the back, and feet crossed at the ankles until she almost sat on him.

“Granger!” he laughed, catching her elbow. “Watch what you’re doing!”

She jumped about a foot, hand flying to her throat when he touched her. _Oh my God!_ Her heart started to pound at the contact of his skin on hers. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry. I…I wasn’t paying attention!”

“No kidding,” he teased, eyes twinkling merrily. “Good thing I’m someone you know, yeah? Sit, please.”

Heart still galloping, she sat next to him on the bench, careful to leave about a foot of space between them. Even so, she could feel the warmth of his arm behind her, where it rested on the back of the bench. It brought back the memory of how it had felt for him to hold her the meeting before last ago. Her stomach did a little back flip. It had been ten days since the group session where she had cried on him afterwards, and three days since she had seen him last. This most recent session had gone much more smoothly – no giant wet spots on the front of expensive silk dress shirts was definitely a plus.

“Is your little guy here? Scorpius?” She scanned the playset. From what she could tell, they were the only ones there at the moment.

Hugo was on a swing on his tummy, propelling it with his feet. Arms outstretched, he screamed “Weee!” at the top of his lungs as he lifted his legs and soared back and forth for a couple of rounds before using his feet to gain height again. Rose was climbing a ladder, she favored the large, twisting tube slide. There was no little boy that looked like Draco anywhere.

“He is…but he’s _invisible_ …shh.” He held a finger up to his lips, which were twitching with a suppressed smirk. Hermione couldn’t help it, he just looked so damned adorable with his eyes glowing with parental amusement and the smile he was trying to hide. She threw her head back and laughed deep.

Her daughter looked up at her with wide, surprised eyes. It didn’t cut off her laughter, but it quieted it a bit. It had been a long time since she had let a true laugh through. She blew a kiss to the little girl, who automatically raised her hand to catch it before returning to her climb.

“Gods, she’s adorable,” Draco grinned at her. “Him, too.” He nodded to Hugo. “How did you end up with a kid that has Weasley’s hair color, but your…er…” He trailed off, cheeks going just a bit pink.

“With my bushy, springy mess? I know!” she exclaimed, chuckling again. She scanned the playground again, looking for Scorpius. Was he really invisible? Maybe Draco had disillusioned him to go along with the child’s game. “Poor kid, right?”

“Nah.” Draco shook his head. “Maybe lucky he’s a boy and can keep it nice and short. All though, I like that you let yours grow long. Seems like the length weighs it down a bit? It’s more controlled then it was in school.”

Her breath caught in her throat when he reached out and plucked a curl that had come loose from her chignon. She tried to ignore the way her scalp tingled with pleasure where the curl pulled at the skin. _This is still bloody Draco Malfoy, Hermione. Pull yourself together._ She gave herself a mental shake. “That, yes,” she smiled. “I’ve also gotten a bit better at managing it. Apparently, if Lavender Brown insists you use a relaxing charm enough times, you can perfect it to her impossibly high standards. It’s always shot by the end of the day, though. Bushy, crazy mess, as usual.” She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to say something scathing. _Show me how much you’ve changed, Malfoy. Don’t tease me. Maybe I’ll start believing this act is real._

To her astonishment, he did. “I’ve always liked your hair. It fits your personality – fierce, determined, wildly in control. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a wood nymph? All you’d need to do is let your hair down and put a wreath of flowers on your head.”

Her mouth dropped open as heat spread through her cheeks. Did he just…in a roundabout way…tell her she was pretty? “Er…no,” she whispered. She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes, and noticing his cheeks were a bit pink, quickly looked away again. Was he flirting with her? Like, really flirting? She was startled for a moment to see Rose’s red head bent very close to a platinum blond one. Then relaxed when she realized it must be Scorpius. Where had the kid come from?

“Rose found Scorpius,” she smiled, effectively changing the subject. The man beside her seemed to let out a breath he had been holding.

He responded with an amused tone. “So it seems.” They watched in companionable silence as the two whispered excitedly before turning to Hugo, who was still amusing himself on the swing.

“Hugo! C’mere!” Rose cried out. Hugo quickly scrambled off the swing, thrilled his sister was paying him attention.

“This is Scorpius Malfoy,” they could hear Rose say primly. “Scorpius, this is my little brother Hugo Granger-Weasley.”

Next to her, Draco snorted.

“What?” Hermione tried to pretend she was affronted, but couldn’t keep the smirk off her face. She knew exactly what he was laughing at. Rose was her mini-me in all but looks.

“Well…” Draco broke off, darting a look at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re taking the mickey,” he chuckled. “You know exactly why I’m laughing. Granger incarnate!” He was teasing her sweetly, eyes twinkling, smile firmly in place. A thrill ran through her. She hadn’t had this kind of easy-going conversation about her kids and her life in months. Everyone else still treated her and the children with kid gloves.

“Yes, I do.” She grinned.

“Hi Scworpius,” Hugo mangled the blond boy’s name perfectly and Hermione let out another giggle. She felt so light hearted at the moment.

“Hey, Hugo.” Scorpius’ voice was just a touch haughty, his nose turned up slightly.

Hermione couldn’t help it anymore. She guffawed, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. It seemed that Draco was also finding humor watching their children interact with their parents’ personality traits on full display.

Scorpius was a beautiful little boy, pale and blond like his daddy. _He must have his mother’s chin and nose, though. Not as pointed as Malfoy’s once was._

“Let’s play tag!” Rose directed. “I’ll be it. I’ll count to three, you guys run away!”

The two other children nodded eagerly and immediately took off as Rose completed her countdown. Then she ran after them, a huge grin on her sweet, freckled face.

“Hey,” Draco leaned over a bit and Hermione’s tummy turned over at his proximity. “Do you mind if I use the rest room really quick? Will you keep an eye on Scorpius for me?”

“Of course!” Hermione was happy to help. Besides, putting some distance between them for a moment couldn’t hurt. Her palms were sweating!

She watched him go with mixed feelings before turning back to the kids. Hugo was hiding under a platform of the playset while Scorpius climbed a ladder. Rose was close on his heels and he scrambled.

“Be careful, guys!” She cried out, then her heart dropped. In his haste, Scorpius missed a ladder rung and slipped. She was off the bench and halfway to him as he landed, but was not quick enough with her wand to cast a cushioning charm.

The little boy immediately started to wail.

* * *

_Holy shit, you’re an idiot. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a wood-nymph?” She must think I’m a complete moron._  He sighed as he made his way into the public restroom off the edge of the park. He had been elated to see her children run onto the playground. Thinking to himself that getting to maybe chat with her in a more normal setting would help bridge the gap that was between them because of his years of tormenting her when they were in school. Gods, he just wanted her to see him for the man he had become. The war had changed him, Astoria had brought him back to life, her death had made him a new man. A new man that wanted a woman like Hermione Granger – strong, beautiful, obviously a wonderful mother, intelligent, powerful. Sophisticated, but not high on herself like the pureblood circle of women his mother continued to try and set him up with.

He was emptying his bladder in front of a urinal when he heard Hermione’s frantic shout to be careful followed by Scorpius’ scream. Foregoing bathroom etiquette, he straightened his clothing and bolted from the loo. He was back across the playground in seconds. Nothing – absolutely nothing – could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him though.

Hermione had Scorpius in her lap, one arm around his back and the other gently smoothing his hair off his forehead. He was clinging to her, face buried in her neck as she whispered softly in his ear, soothingly. Draco froze mid-stride, his heart bursting like a firework display. The breath in his lungs left him as though someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. Hermione met his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

“Your daddy’s back, love! I promised he’d be right back, didn’t I?” She said clearly and loudly enough for all in their party to hear. Scorpius sniffled and peeked out from Hermione’s shoulder before burrowing back in, his little arms looping around her neck. Draco took that as a sign that Scorpius was none too pleased with him for not being here in his time of need.

“Hey, Monster.” His voice came out choked as he came to kneel next to the duo. He smoothed a hand over Scorpius’ upper back. “What happened?”

“I fell.” The little boy’s voice was muffled in Hermione’s shoulder. Rose and Hugo stood to the side, looking uncertain.

“He skinned his knee a bit, but he was a big, brave boy. Weren’t you Scorpius?” Hermione prompted.

His son took the prodding and pulled away from her, flicking his eyes between the two adults. “I was, Daddy. She cleaned my cut and healed it all up!” He sounded impressed and Draco had to suppress a chuckle.

“Let me see, Monster.” Scorpius shifted in Hermione’s lap. Neither adult missed his reluctance to leave her arms and exchanged a surprised look. “Ah, I do see!” He smoothed the fresh pink skin over Scorpius’ knee. “Well, Ms. Granger did a great job, didn’t she?”

“She did! It didn’t hurt at all.” There was a short pause and then Scorpius searched his father’s eyes. “Is this what it’s like to have a mummy?” he asked softly. Draco was immediately rendered speechless; Hermione let out a quiet gasp of surprise. Their eyes locked, both sets sad.

The little boy didn’t seem to notice the intense moment between the two adults at all. He continued on without hesitation. “I like it…” He looked up at Hermione. “You’re nice. Can you be my mummy? I need one.”

Tears sprung to Draco’s eyes at the absolute surreal-ness of what was happening. He watched in stunned amazement as Hermione checked her obvious emotions. Obvious to an adult, that was. She exchanged another glance with him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Oh, Scorpius. You have a mummy. She loved you very much.” Draco’s breath let out on a whoosh at her answer. He had to bite the inside of his lips in order to stifle a sob that wanted to break free.

“But my mummy crossed over the veil,” Scorpius continued on, oblivious to the powerful shift in the atmosphere around him. “I need a new one.”

“Oh, honey.” Hermione gathered the little boy close again and Draco’s heart leapt when she pressed a gentle kiss to his son’s forehead. She was perfect with him. He had never met anyone who interacted so perfectly with his son outside of family. “No one can ever replace your mum, but how about this. I’d really like to be your friend. What do you say?”

This seemed to placate Scorpius quite nicely. He grinned at her broadly, nodding enthusiastically, and gave her one last squeeze. Like only children can do, he forgot what was happening instantly as he pushed himself up out of Hermione’s lap and yelled, “I’m it! You better run!!”

Rose and Hugo squealed with giggles and took off again, Scorpius in hot pursuit. This left the two stunned adults staring at each other in disbelief.

“That was…deep,” Hermione whispered, her eyes falling away from Draco’s.

“He’s never said anything like that before, to anyone.” Draco’s voice was thick with emotion. “That…I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Hermione shifted herself onto her knees, pushing herself into a tall kneel and swiped her hands together to clear away the sand on them.

“Er…I guess I don’t know.” He lifted himself from his squatting position.

He was standing before her and held out a hand to help her up. She grasped it and he had to push back the longing in his heart. He just wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Kiss her for what she had done for his son. For how she had made the little boy feel safe and cherished. For how she made he, himself, feel. Seeing a woman that wasn’t his grandmother holding Scorpius in their arms with such tender care, with Scorpius responding so warmly to her, was exhilarating.

He stopped himself, though. Instead, just squeezing her hand tight. She returned the pressure with a small smile. “He’s a lovely little boy, Draco. He said thank you and everything. You’re doing a really good job with him.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, touched. “You’re such a great mum, Hermione. Your kids are very lucky to have you.”

The blush that bloomed in her cheeks was lovely. She slipped her hand away from his and Draco let it go, a tingle of regret coursing through him.

_Ask her now,_ a little voice in his head demanded. _Right now!_

“Would…Granger?” He wanted her to look at him when he did this. Wanted to see her reaction. She turned to him, a questioning expression on her face.

“I was wondering…well.” _Fuck! Why is this so hard? You’re never nervous, you idiot. Just ask!_ “Would you like to get some coffee sometime?” Her eyes widened noticeably and her face froze in surprise. He wished he could hear her thoughts.

She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to speak. Then she closed it again, continuing to study his face. Draco was starting to feel horribly foolish. _Too soon, too soon. She told you less than a week ago she wasn’t ready to date. Stupid, stupid._ Then she opened her mouth again.

“Like…on a date?” Hermione flushed when she said it. Oh! He didn’t want her to be embarrassed. He should have clarified immediately.

“Yes…” he said slowly. “That’s if…if you’d be okay with that?” Those blasted teeth came out to worry her lower lip. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty and trepidation. The silence dragged out agonizingly.

“I’d like that,” she finally responded quietly. Draco couldn’t help the whoosh of breath that left him in a rush, or the ecstatic smile that crossed his face. _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ The excitement and triumph he felt was intoxicating. She returned his smile shyly, eyes lowering to the sand.

“Tomorrow? Ten in the morning? I’ll meet you wherever you’d like.” _Yes, that’s good. Keep it informal. A true first date. Coffee, get to know each other a little better. Talk about our likes and dislikes. If it goes well, ask her to dinner for the following weekend._

They finished making arrangements, Hermione saying that she would have to see if she could get someone to take the kids, but that she wasn’t too worried.

“If you can’t make it, just floo-call me. Malfoy Manor, West Wing Master.” He told her simply. “If I don’t hear from you by ten tonight, I’ll assume you’re coming. And if you do call and I’m not there, call out for Tilly. She’ll take a message for me.”

She agreed and then quietly asked. “We were going to get some ice cream when we were done here at the park.” She glanced away from him, nervously. He stared at her, wondering where she was going to take that statement. She looked back up at him. “Would you and Scorpius like to join us? They seem to be getting on well.” She pointedly turned her gaze to the three children, who were now all on their tummies on the swings.

Draco searched her profile for a moment, touched with her invitation. It had obviously been difficult for her to ask. “We’d like that, Granger.”

* * *

  ***** “Feels Like Today” Written by Wayne Hector, Steve Robson Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album** _Feels Like Today._


	4. The Day Before You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much to SnowBlind12 - who basically co-writes all my stories with me at this point. She's is one of the most invaluable people in my life. I love her like a sister. Check out our co-written stories Master Mine and A World Not Fit to Live In and her stories A Witch's Tale and The Affair.
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and kudos! xxLissa

**Chapter Four**  
**The Day Before You**  
**September 29 th, 2012**  
_“ **Now you're here and everything's changing. Suddenly life means so much. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and find out this promise is true. I will never have to go back to the day before you.”***_

* * *

Ginny had agreed to take the children Saturday morning so that Hermione could meet her “friend” for coffee. She had said the word “friend” just like that. Implying she knew very well it was not just a conversation over coffee, but an actual date. When Hermione had dropped the kids off with her, she had watched her with knowing eyes and smirk on her face. Hugging her sister-in-law good-bye, Ginny whispered in her ear. “It’s okay, ’Mione. I won’t tell Harry. Not until you’re ready.”

Hermione had squeezed her harder for a moment before pulling away. “Love you,” she told Ginny, whose eyes softened perceptibly.

“I love you,” she murmured. “Go have some fun.”

Now Hermione found herself walking to the little café just outside of the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London. At first, Malfoy had seemingly balked at her suggestion of venturing into Muggle-country. However, he understood her concern when she had told him she was worried about being recognized, or worse, photographed. She was not willing to have her friends and family find out about a coffee date in a wizarding tabloid. He agreed that it would not be a good thing. Especially after they had received a few raised eyebrows at Fortescue’s the night before.

Hermione had dressed carefully on this cool, damp, fall day. She wanted to look nice, but also wanted to convey that this was a casual affair. A simple first date. She wore a pair of dark brown leggings with a cream-colored silk camisole. Over the cami, she wore a navy cable knit sweater with a blazer collar that had a couple of big brown wooden buttons starting just below her bust. On her feet where a pair of short heeled, square toed, mid-calf height, brown leather boots that had brass buckles on each side. She had left her hair down today. How could she not after the compliment that it made her look like a wood nymph? She had used an application of Sleekeazy’s and the relaxing charm Lavender had made her perfect. Her chestnut tresses were tamed, if only for a little while. Especially with the light precipitation floating down. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of simple crystal studs in her ears and her wedding set. Date or not, she was nowhere near ready to remove it. She hoped he would understand.

Hermione’s heart started thundering in her chest as she neared the café. Malfoy was waiting outside, looking just about as nervous as she felt – and much more gorgeous. He had done well dressing for Muggle London, sporting a pair of dark washed blue jeans with trainers and a deep, bottle green V-necked sweater that looked soft and very expensive.  
  
“Hi,” she whispered when she was within hearing distance.

“Hey,” he answered just as softly. There was an awkward pause and then he gave a soft chuckled. “We’ve been talking each other’s ears off after meetings for almost the last six weeks. You’d think this would be easier, yeah?”

She breathed out a long, slow breath before answering. “I know,” she murmured. “I’m really nervous.” She chortled softly, slightly embarrassed by her admission.

“Me, too,” Draco admitted, a tinge of pink staining his cheek bones. “It’s just…I…” he closed his eyes before clearing his throat. After a moment, he opened his stormy greys once again. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Hermione felt a catch in her throat at the raw vulnerability in his face. He obviously saw something in her that was worthwhile. Broken as she was, she couldn’t begin to fathom what. “First date,” she teased gently. “Perhaps we should leave the deeper discussions for the second?”

His face split into a dazzling grin. One that stole her breath. “Did you just ask me out for a second date?” His eyebrows rose in question and she found herself giggling. Giggling! Hermione Granger didn’t giggle!

“Let’s see how the first goes, shall we?” she mused, letting her tone stay light, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Right.” Draco gave a short nod and reached to open the café door. “After you, m’lady,” he joked, laying charm on thick. Snorting, Hermione walked through the open glass door and scanned the cute little bakery shop. She had been here a few times before. It was owned by an elderly Italian couple and the baked goods were as scrumptious as the coffee. They placed their order, Draco insisting on paying. He raised his eyebrow at her when she ordered three white chocolate chip with macadamia nut cookies.

“They’re my absolute favorite,” she explained with a sheepish smile. “No one makes them like they do here.”

They chose a small, round table right near the window when Hermione explained she loved to people watch. She apparently surprised him when, instead of sitting across from him, she scooted her chair to sit next to him. Both their backs were to the rest of the little shop so they could look out the window. She was just far enough away that making eye contact wouldn’t be too difficult.  
  
Easy conversation started, then. They had been wrong to be so nervous. Their tête-à-tête flowed effortlessly, comfortably. Draco told her about Malfoy Enterprises where he was Assistant CEO under his father, being groomed to take over the family business. He had two assistants himself, only because he refused to put in more than 45-50-hours per week. He explained that he knew he needed to be with his son as much as possible. Hermione lamented her understanding. She had cut her own hours back at the Ministry after Ron died. She was worried about what this would do with her career. She had been working her way up to take the head chair of her department when her boss retired in a few years, and was concerned that her inability to work her normal 50-60-hour weeks would mean she would be passed over.

“They would be foolish not to have you as head,” Draco insisted fervently. “I know that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is your passion. I know you love the little guy, the underdog. You are worth so much more than just that department, though, Granger. You could be the flipping Minister and make it look easy.”

Hermione felt the heat of a blush of pleasure rise to her cheeks. Funny he would say that, being Minister had always been her end goal. She sobered slightly, though. A single mother could never be Minister. It would be too hard.

She made her admission softly. “That was always the hope,” she whispered. Draco looked at her with surprised eyes. “You know, make Department Head, make a difference, and be ready for nomination when Shacklebolt retired. Funny how life changes aspirations with a drop of a hat.”

“What you do you mean ‘changes aspirations?’ You don’t want to be Minister anymore?” He took a sip of his coffee, black with one sugar, watching her with a contemplative expression. “ME would back you.”

Her mouth popped open in shock. “Your father hates Muggle-borns,” she pointed out with a sardonic smirk.

“My father retires in three years,” Draco corrected. “You’re on a date with the next CEO of Malfoy Enterprises, and _he_ says ME would back you in the election.” There was an extremely pregnant pause before Hermione could find her voice to answer him.

“That means a lot, Malfoy,” she told him sincerely. “I’m afraid that my dream of being Minister died when Ron did. I can’t be Minister of Magic and a full-time, single mum.”

More silence. “You have time,” Draco finally responded. “Just…don’t give up on that vision quite yet.”

She nodded her reluctant agreement. “Tell me more about Scorpius.” Hermione changed the subject, pulling them away from the intense topic. “Is he being tutored? Do you have a one on one tutor for him or do you share a tutor with a group?”

The conversation turned to their children’s antics and personalities and soon they were both talking animatedly. Hands flying through gestures as they told stories, tears forming in their eyes at things only children can do made them snicker hysterically.  
  
“I haven’t talked this much or laughed this hard in too long.” She grinned at him over her third cup of coffee. They had been here for almost two hours. Draco had gone up and purchased a half of a dozen more of the macadamia nut cookies after she had insisted he try a bite. They had worked their way through the entire plate, just a few bites of biscuit were left on hers.

“Please don’t take offense to this, Malfoy, but you’re the last person I ever thought I’d have a satisfying conversation with.”

Draco barked a laugh and sat back in the booth, eyes sparkling. She couldn’t help but think of how much more handsome he was when he smiled instead of sneered. “To tell you the truth, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a normal conversation with you. Brightest witch of our age and all that.”

She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how much it sucks being labeled thus. Merlin forbid any of my ideas are crap. Merlin forbid I make a mistake. Sometimes it would be nice to just sit back and relax, you know?”

“Sure, I do,” he shrugged. “I was born and bred into a life of high expectations. Do you have any idea how often I got yelled at by my parents because you were beating me in every single freaking class?”

“Was I?” Her smile was coy and pulled another chuckle out of him. A lick of heat swept through her belly. He had a beautiful laugh. “Where did you fall in the lineup at graduation?”

“Seriously? You don’t know?” He let out an exasperated sigh, clearly not surprised by her admission.

“No, why?” She cocked her head to one side, puzzled by his reaction.

He shook his head, still laughing softly. “Did you ever pay attention to your competition?”

An elegantly arched eyebrow rose as she smirked. “I wasn’t aware I had any competition.”

He snorted. “You wouldn’t be, would you? You were always just out to best yourself, weren’t you?”

“I truly just wanted to do my best in school. To prove that I belonged.” She raised her hand aloofly, shrugging one shoulder.

Draco was quiet for a moment, letting that nugget of information sink in. “You never had anything to prove,” he finally answered. “You were always brilliant. Annoying as hell, sometimes, but brilliant.” He grunted as she gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, then grinned ruefully at her. “I should know, I was on your heels for marks in every class we shared. Every once in a while I would pull ahead of you in Potions, but mostly you just left me in the dust.”

“You were second?” She looked surprised, and he wondered if he should be offended by that or not.

“I was. You received eleven NEWTs, all O’s if I’m not mistaken. You took NEWT exams on a couple subjects you weren’t even enrolled in, if I recall correctly. Care of Magical Creatures? Muggle Studies? I was infuriated when I found that out.” He paused as she laughed. “I received ten NEWTs, eight O’s and two E’s in Defense and Charms. Charms have always been a little trickier for me. No one else got more than nine NEWTs and no one else got straight O’s.” He tilted his head at her, watching her take in this information with a faraway look in her eyes. Taking another sip of his coffee, he asked, “Are you really that surprised?”

“Yes…” She looked lost in thought. “Oh, but not about your grades.” She amended when he looked slightly offended. “I’m surprised I never thought to look at how my other classmates were doing. It really was just all about doing my best.”

He nodded. He believed that of her, she had always been entirely too focused on school, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. It didn’t surprise him that she had never thought to see if anyone was on her heels in terms of marks.

“I never understood why you were put in Gryffindor,” he admitted, watching his fingers as he twirled the ceramic mug in his hands. He met her eyes then. “I always thought you should have been a Ravenclaw. You were smarter than any in our year.”

“Oh, Ravenclaw was seriously considered,” she smirked, the smile growing wider to show teeth. She watched him for a moment before admitting more. “As was Slytherin.”

Both Draco’s brows shot up in surprise. “What?” he sputtered. “Slytherin? That hat would have sent you to your own bloody slaughter?”

“I rejected Slytherin right off the bat because of what I had read. The Sorting Hat agreed with me. A Muggle-born in Slytherin would have been scandalous, to say the least.” She outright laughed before continuing. “I believe the words were ‘You would be amazing in Slytherin, you know. Intelligent, cunning – you have a brilliant mind. There hasn’t ever been a Muggle-born in Slytherin, Miss Granger. You could bring about great change to Hogwarts. Great change indeed!’ It was actually hard to refuse after he said that, but then the hat seemed concerned for my safety. Perhaps it had known what was brewing.”

Draco’s face was a mask of incredulity. “I wonder where things would have gone if you had been sorted into Slytherin. Hermione Granger, I don’t think you’ll ever cease to amaze me.” His face settled into a small smirk when her cheeks went a bit pink. “Tell me, why not Ravenclaw?”  
  
“I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when that didn’t happen. I thought maybe I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. That, when compared to other witches and wizards, I wasn’t as bright as I’d hoped.” She sighed. “I really felt I had something to prove after that night. In hindsight, though, the hat saw so much more in me than just a studious eleven-year-old. It truly is a sentient being, that blasted thing.” She smiled sadly, thinking of Ron. “It put me exactly where I needed to be.”

“What about your parents?” he asked. Her pallor changed slightly, some pink fading from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Bad subject?”

“No! It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” she forced a smile to her face. “My parents…well. I obliviated them just before the boys and I went on the run. Dan and Jean Granger are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins. They live in Australia. I tried to fix them after the war, but I couldn’t. I had numerous skilled witches and wizards give it a go, as well, but to no avail. Apparently, my fear for their lives made my memory charm very intense. It couldn’t be reversed without severely damaging their minds.”

“Oh, Granger. That really sucks, I’m so sorry.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. A shot of pleasure cascaded through him when she turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” she gave him a tender smile. “I check up on them every couple of years. They are doing quite well. They have tons of friends, a nice little home. They’re retired and live comfortably. I’m just glad they’re happy and alive.”

“You kept them safe,” he assured her. He was disappointed when she untangled her hand from his, moving it to pick up the last bit of cookie.  
  
He watched her pop it into her mouth and finish off her coffee. There was a crumb of biscuit stuck to the corner of her lips. He wondered if she knew just how tempted he was to lean over and kiss it away. Instead, he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. She froze, and a bolt of electricity shot up his arm. He hadn’t ever touched her like this before. A hug? Yes. A gentle touch on her back to guide her to her seat or through a doorway? Yes. This type of intimate gesture, touching her face or her lips? No.

He saw her look at his mouth and his heart leapt. Was she thinking about kissing him, too? _Only one way to find out._ Slowly, giving her plenty of time to subtly refuse by turning her head or using a napkin or _any_ thing, he leaned forward. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away from him. He kept his gaze on hers, making his intentions very clear. The millisecond before his lips touched hers, her eyelids slid shut. With a small grunt of victory, he sealed his lips to hers. The heat was instantaneous and intense. His eyes, which hadn’t quite closed all the way, flew open when a puff of magical current surged between them. A rupture of silver light framed their bodies for a split second. He felt her shocked inhalation of breath through her nose a second before she pulled back from him, her eyes widening slowly. He took a brief moment to look around the café, relieved to find it mostly deserted. Just a woman on a telephoney thing in the far corner, her back to them, and the couple behind the counter, engrossed in a conversation.

“I…” She looked bewildered and frightened. He didn’t blame her, so was he. “I have to go.” Pushing herself to stand, she grabbed her bag and bolted for the door as she slung it over her shoulder and across her chest.

“Wait, Hermione!” He called out, frantically pulling some bills from his pocket. Tossing them on the table for a tip, he ran through the door after the rapidly retreating witch. _Holy fuck, holy fuck. What the hell just happened?_

“Hermione!” She didn’t turn, just kept stalking forward to the Apparition point that was just ahead. “Hermione, wait!” Draco caught up to her then, grabbing the crook of her arm. Hermione spun towards him and he flinched, prepared for her to deck him, or slap him, or _something_. What he was not prepared for, however, was for her to launch herself at him. One arm wrapped around his neck as she dragged his mouth down to hers.

He stilled, thunderstruck for a split second before diving in head first. With a low growl of overwhelming need, he sank his hands into her hair and demanded entry past her lips. His tongue sought hers out greedily. Once again, a spark of magic enveloped them. However, this time he didn’t care about the magic. He just cared about the feel of her in his arms, his lips on hers, the way her tongue tangled tantalizingly with his. One, two awkward and demanding steps, and he had backed her into the building. The fingers of one of her hands slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, nails clutching desperately, while the other hand bunched the fabric of his shirt. Her slick, pink, delicious tongue dueled hotly with his.

He couldn’t believe her reaction – he couldn’t believe his! The chemistry between them zinged with an electrical current to rival any lightning bolt. He reangled his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth, making her whimper and tighten the hand clinging to his clothing. He groaned into her mouth at the feel of her nails biting into his chest. Gods, he wanted her. It didn’t matter that they were standing in Muggle London, yeah? He could just take her up against this wall, right? She answered his bite by gently nibbling on his upper lip. One of his hands left her glorious hair to wrap around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as he continued to plunder her mouth with wild abandon.

Not thinking, not even beginning to reason with his actions and needs, he grasped behind one of her knees and pulled it up around his hip, sinking his pelvis into hers. She moaned her own desires back into his mouth and he thought he’d go mad. Rolling her hips into his, she elicited a sharp inhalation of breath from him. She answered the intense onslaught of his mouth on hers nip for lick. That was…until she didn’t.

With a startled sob, she pushed him away and he was horrified to see tears spill down her face. “Hermione,” he said softly, reaching for her face. Oh, Gods. He knew how she was feeling. The first time he had done anything more than sit by a woman after Astoria died was a mixture of awful and wonderful. This had been so much more intense than anything he had ever felt in his life, though. A deeper connection by far, a stronger pull. He almost felt as if he couldn’t breathe without her. Now that he had tasted her, he didn’t want to let her go.

“Draco, please don’t.” It was a pleading whisper. She turned her face, avoiding his eyes. One of her hands shoved against his chest, and he stepped back to give her the space she was wordlessly requesting. He didn’t miss the use of his given name, it was the first time he had ever heard her say it. It left him feeling lightheaded and breathless.

“What you’re feeling is okay.” He tried to comfort her anyway, which made her curl into herself further. Another sob broke through and she pressed trembling fingers to her lips.

“I have to go.” Her breath hitched and she pushed away from the wall.

“Hermione!” He called after her, taking a couple of steps to follow. She whirled around.

“Please, _don’t._ ” She begged, her hands clutching her stomach. Her eyes were wild with emotion and wet with tears. “I just…I have to go. I’ll see you…I’ll see you at group on Wednesday. We…we can talk then. I just…I have to think. I just…can’t…I have to go.” With those words, she all but sprinted to the Apparition point. He was momentarily frozen to his spot before he started following her again. Hearing a distinctive _crack,_ he realized he had not been fast enough.

* * *

She stood in shock at where her desperate Apparition had taken her. She had been gone well over her promised two hours; Ginny would be missing her. Instead of returning to Grimmauld Place, she stood in the cemetery on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. In front of her husband’s gravestone. Seconds after kissing another man. Moments after allowing him to pull her into his arms and all but ravish her on the streets of London. Moaning her grief, she sank to her knees. Fresh waves of shock and anguish crashed over her like torrents of ocean waves. The grief was mixed with an overwhelming desire to Apparate right back to the man she had left calling after her desperately as she fled.

She pressed her forehead to the granite and bawled with everything inside her, pouring emotion out when words wouldn’t come.

It was a while before she calmed enough to grasp coherent thoughts. She fumbled with her bag, pulling out tissues to mop her face and blow her nose before letting out a shuddering sigh of fatigue. The fatigue that can only be felt after a good, hard cry. Pushing herself away from the stone, she noticed how the sun lit the small graveyard, making the granite of her Ron’s headstone sparkle. Suddenly, she felt nervous and awkward.

“I don’t even know what to say,” she whispered. Tears came again, making her vision blurry. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I’m so…I’m so sorry, Ron.” Her breath hitched and more tears streaked down her face. “I feel like I’m cheating on you. I just wish you were here. I want you to come … to come home. Oh, gods.” She covered her mouth with one trembling hand as she looked out over the hill she was on. “Please forgive me. I don’t know why it’s him…it doesn’t make any sense.”

“I have to go,” she said a moment later. “I’m…so very sorry. I love you.”

She Apparated into her back yard. Quickly moving through the house, she headed straight to the kitchen hearth and threw some floo powder into it. “Ginny?” she called out sticking her head in the green flames.

Ginny appeared quickly. “Hey!” she exclaimed with a grin. “I was wondering where you were. Date go well?” She gave Hermione a big grin that faded quickly when her friend let out a strangled sob.

“Hermione!”

“Where are the kids and Harry?” Hermione said urgently, desperately trying to stop her tears.

“Upstairs, in the playroom. They were putting together some puzzles the last time I checked in on them.

“Can you come through? I really need to talk,” Hermione begged.

“Of course! Just let me tell Harry and I’ll be right there.” Ginny disappeared and Hermione pulled herself out of the flames. Making her way to the living room, she sank down on a worn davenport. She tucked her feet underneath her and buried her face in her hands.

Oh, Gods. She was confused. There were just too many feelings warring inside of her. Attraction, lust, desire, guilt, unfaithfulness, worry, regret, need, and the list went on. Mostly, though, she was terrified of how her body had responded to his kisses. She had felt a fire ignite in her belly, a heat singe through her veins. His touch left a trail of molten hot desire on her skin. When their tongues touched, electricity sparked through her. Her breathing sped, her heart rate accelerated. She _wanted_ him. Desperately. It was an ache deep in her heart – deep in her womb.

Any normal person would wonder why that bothered her. Any normal person would tell her she was foolish for running away from it.

However, any normal person would not have felt her desire. Her elation at having been touched so deeply after too long. A normal person would not have understood that one second, she was excited for him to be leaning in to kiss her, even though she was nervous; the next minute she was desperate for him. Wanting to strip him of every stitch of clothing. Wanting him buried inside her. Wanting to never, ever let him go. Her heart leapt at the remembrance. She still wanted him, with a yearning she had never experienced before. It absolutely terrified her.  
  
The want had been quickly followed by her surprise, her guilt. It had not been normal for her. Ever. Never. She had loved Ron; they’d had passion. She felt warm and gooey inside when he kissed her. Their sex life had been wonderfully satisfying…and, oh, she missed him so very much. She would give anything to have him again. To feel his fingers in her hair as his lips lingered over hers. To have his hands encircle her waist, to feel his mouth between her thighs, driving her higher and higher until she shouted his name with the release of her need.

Her and Ron’s love had been sweet, comfortable, easy, and fulfilling. When Draco had kissed her, though. Oh, Gods. It had felt like her world had righted on its axis. Like when you finished a thousand-piece puzzle to find one piece missing – _he_ was that missing piece. He would make her whole. It had felt as if everything she had been missing for longer than she had ever known had fallen into place. Like everything was going to be okay. As if, as long as they were with each other, nothing could ever be wrong again. That he could always fix it. That _they_ could always fix it.  
  
One didn’t get those feelings from only _lust_ , did they?

Sobs were coming full force. She was so overcome with emotion. Tumultuous feelings poured through her being. Her chest heaved with the force of her upset. That’s how Ginny found her, curled into a ball, blubbering nonsensically. Ginny watched her friend for a moment, concerned, but realized Hermione needed the release. She moved through the living room to the adjoining half bath to collect a box of tissues. Settling on the couch next to Hermione a few minutes later, Ginny wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulders and pulled her into her side. She kissed the top of Hermione’s head and just held her until the sobs turned into soft, hiccupping breaths.

“Was it that bad?” Ginny asked when Hermione had calmed enough to take a few tissues and blot her face. Hermione laughed before a fresh wave of tears started. She blew her nose and caught more tears with a fresh Kleenex.

“Oh, no,” Ginny whispered, startled with the realization. “Was it that _good_?”

Hermione had just started to calm for a second time when Ginny’s words threw her back over the edge. She nodded, more weeping rendering her unable to speak.

“You have to tell me who, ’Mi,” Ginny insisted, rubbing her friend’s back soothingly. “I know that I know the person. I know you’re not telling me for a reason, but I need you to tell me now.”

She watched as Hermione nodded again, still unable to control her crying. “It’s bad, Gin. So bad. No…” She hiccupped and blew her nose again. “No one is going…going to understand.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand. I just…I can’t believe this is ha-happening.”

“Hermione, you’re starting to scare me. It honestly can’t be that bad.”

“It is. Promise me you won’t be mad.” When Hermione met Ginny’s eyes for the first time, the redhead sucked in a breath. Her friend was desperate for validation and looked utterly terrified.

“I don’t care who he is,” she said firmly. “If he’s good to you, and you like him, I know I will, too.”

“D-don’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” Hermione whispered, finally calming enough to speak normally. She pulled another tissue out of the box and wiped her blotchy face. Silence stretched, and Ginny let it go on for a few minutes. Letting Hermione gather the courage she needed for this confession. A confession Ginny was sure would shock.

She was right.

“It’s Draco Malfoy.”

Ginny was positive she heard wrong. “Come…again?” she said uncertainly.

Hermione met her eyes, pleading with Ginny to understand. “Oh Gods, Ginny. It’s _Draco Malfoy_.” She burst into tears again and Ginny could do nothing but sit there in stunned contemplation.

“How?” she said finally, incredulously.

“He’s the leader of the grief group,” she ground out between sniffles.

“Oh.” Ginny sounded surprised for a moment. “I think I remember that. I remember when Astoria died, that is. It was in the society pages in the Prophet. Wow, he never remarried?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, he hasn’t. He loved his wife. He told me it was almost four years before he had a serious relationship.” She paused, her breaths were starting to become steadier with the conversation. "Oh, Ginny. No one is going to be okay with this.”

“So end it.”

Hermione looked up, hurt crossing her face. She had been so hopeful Ginny would be supportive.  
  
“No! That’s not what I meant,” Ginny reached and covered the curly haired witch’s hand. “If you like him that much, by all means, date him. All I’m saying is you have to be sure he’s something special before you say anything to _any_ one else.” She watched relief flood Hermione’s face. “I mean…bloody hell. He’s fucking gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Hermione started to laugh through the tears that just wouldn’t seem to stop. “You’re…you’re not m-mad?”

“Oh, of course not!” Ginny scolded. “I’d totally hit that if I were single!”  
  
“Ginny!” Hermione was slightly affronted. “I’m not ‘hitting’ that!”  
  
Ginny started guffawing. “Being it was your first date, I would hope not! He’s really the leader of the grief group? I can _not_ see that at all.”

“He’s incredible at it.” Hermione’s voice grew soft. It was gravely with her tears, but Ginny could hear the admiration in it. “He’s _so_ different from when we were kids. Kind, thoughtful, gentle. Oh, Gin!” she snorted. Her heart raced with thoughts of him. “Yes, he’s bloody beautiful. But…it’s not just physical attraction. I mean, yes. I’m attracted to him, but it’s so much more than that. Something completely beyond my control. I love being with him, talking to him. Everything is just so…easy…with him.” Her face crumpled again as she reached for another tissue as her voice started wavering again. She held herself in check a bit better this time, though. “Time seems to just disappear when we’re together. We talk about everything and nothing. It’s…surreal. And too fast. Everything is too fast.”

Ginny was quiet, absorbing what Hermione was telling her. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the curly haired witch was in love with the man she was talking about. “Draco-fucking-Malfoy?” It was said as an unbelieving question, as if she was asking for confirmation. Hermione validated the question with an equally incredulous nod. “You could push me over with a bloody feather.” Ginny shook her head, disbelieving. “Did he kiss you?”

Heat flushed her cheeks.

“Ooo! I take that as a resounding _yes_!” Ginny’s eyes widened comically. “How was it?”

“Life-altering.”

* * *

“You think _what_ now?!” Theo Nott’s mouth was hanging open in utter astonishment.

“I think I soul bonded,” Draco repeated patiently, unable to believe those words had just come out of his mouth. If anyone had come to him with this conclusion, he was sure he would have reacted the same way.

“Are you sure?” Pansy Nott held a sleeping two-year-old Emma Nott against her shoulder, staring at Draco with wide, unbelieving eyes. “With Hermione Granger? What the hell were you doing out with _Hermione Granger_?!”

“Soul bonded?” Theo muttered, crossing the library. Draco had basically dragged them to the room the moment he had come barreling through the front door of Nott Manor. “I know we have some books on that over here somewhere.” Draco watched his life-long friend start rummaging through a couple of book shelves while he answered Pansy.

“I asked her out, she said yes,” Draco told her with a touch of sarcasm. “You know, how normal people date?”

Pansy let out an exasperated huff of indignation. “Ok, ok. No need to be a smart ass.” She kissed the forehead of the sleeping two-year-old. “I’m going to put Emma down and check on the other brats. I’ll be right back.” The petite blonde left the library and Draco’s attention was brought back to Theo as he dropped a stack of books on a research table. Both men flopped down into chairs.  
  
“Tell me again what happened,” Theo asked, running his finger down the table of contents page in the first book he opened.

“When our lips met, there was a shot of magical energy, it actually puffed her hair,” Draco answered, almost too calmly. “Then a shimmer of silver light enveloped us. She pulled away after that. She was upset.” Draco let out a breath and collapsed into the leather wingback chair. “I can’t blame her. It was…unexpected and slightly terrifying.”

“That bad of a kisser, are you?” Theo teased, an easy grin crossing his face as he looked up at Draco.

“Hardy, har, har,” Draco rolled his eyes, but internally he was thrilled his friend was helping him. Theo never let him down. “No. I’m an excellent kisser, if you must know. I think her distress came from it being the first time she’s kissed anyone other than her dead husband, whom she was with for over fifteen years. People do tend to get a little emotional in times like that.” He shrugged, his tone less sarcastic at the end.

That reminder wiped the smirk off Theo’s face quickly, and Draco immediately felt bad for his sour mood. This wasn’t Theo’s fault. Draco knew he shouldn’t take it out on him. The feelings he was experiencing were no one’s fault. The moment Hermione had Apparated away from him, he had felt as if half his heart went with her. It was taking a lot of effort not to figure out where she lived and turn up on her door step.

“Sorry, mate,” Theo said quietly. “I’d forgotten about Weasley. I mean, I knew he died and all…it’s just…things like that don’t cross most people’s minds. You know?”

“No, Theo. You don’t have to apologize,” Draco answered softly. “You were just giving me a hard time. I’m sorry I snapped. I feel…bloody hell. I feel really off balance.” He paused before continuing. “When you add the magical spike, or whatever it was, on top of her emotions - it’s really no wonder she ran.” Draco leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “There’s no way she didn’t feel the magical current, either, it was intense. It happened both times we kissed, but the silver glow only happened the first time. Her eyes were closed, I don’t think she saw it.”

Theo nodded seriously, taking in what Draco had to say. He reached up with one hand to scratch the top of his head while he thought. “Tell me why you feel off balance,” he said finally, looking up when Pansy came sauntering back into the room. She went right up to her husband and kissed him sweetly on his upturned mouth before he pulled her down into his lap and settled his chin on her shoulder, continuing to scan the book he was looking at.

Pansy and Theo had hooked up after the final battle and dated seriously through their repeated seventh year at Hogwarts. After having been friends for all their lives, neither had ever thought about each other romantically until the panic and fear from the uncertainty of war had thrown them together. One little kiss of comfort had blossomed into one of the most mature and indestructible relationships Draco had ever seen in his life.

They had married right out of school in 1999, celebrating thirteen years this past June. Four children later, they were still deadly protective of each other and madly in love. Their oldest, Isabella, was ten and was Draco’s Goddaughter. She was a brilliant child. She turned eleven in October and was avidly looking forward to going to Hogwarts the following year. Much to her parent’s chagrin, she told anyone who would listen she was going to be a Gryffindor. She was positively in love with Harry Potter.

The middle two were twin boys, Jacob and James, and had turned seven over the summer. They promised to be as mischievous and brilliant as the redheaded Weasley twins had been in their parent’s day. Sweet little Miss Emmie had been a surprise, but a coveted one. She was secretly one of the largest joys in Draco’s life. He longed for a daughter of his own.

“Where are the munchkins, Pans?” Draco smiled at the blonde.

“With Pickle,” Pansy grinned. “They love that damn elf. He was the best thing that ever happened to this family.”

“He’s a good elf,” Theo agreed. He turned to Draco. “I need you to tell me what you’re feeling. You said, ‘off balance.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Draco shrugged. “I’m uncomfortable and feel edgy. The moment she Apparated away from me, it was like I was suddenly panicked that she wasn’t there.”

Theo and Pansy exchanged surprised looks, two sets of eyebrows disappearing into their hairlines. “What?” Draco sounded maddened.

“Well, dear Draco,” Pansy slipped off her husband’s lap and plopped into the chair next to him. She reached for the next book on the stack and opened it. “It sounds like you’re in L-O-V-E, _love_.”

Draco swiped the air with a hand as if to say _do shut up_. “Do I like her? Yes. A lot. We’ve only been on one date, though, I’m not in love with her.”

“This says differently,” Theo answered softly. Flopping the book he had been scanning out in front of him, he pointed to a passage. Draco took the hardcover and quickly scanned it.

 _ **Soul Bonding** is a rare occurrence, happening infrequently throughout the centuries. Currently, as I write this section on soul magic in 2007, there are four couples alive today that are soul bound. There hasn’t been a documented case of soul binding in Great Brittan since 1791._  
  
_There are many things not known about soul magic, but tales of this rare binding remain consistently documented throughout the eras. All documented cases match the recounts of those four couples I interviewed personally._

_People who are destined to be soul bound and who find each other can have no affinity for each other if they spend no time together alone. One of my interviewed couples said they had known of each other at M ahoutokoro , but were three years apart in age and never ran in the same social circles. Their bond did not occur until five years after the younger of the couple graduated from school and met again at their respective work place._

_Therefore, it is presumed that soul binding will only take place when the two souls meant to be together find themselves in close, intimate proximity. Those who have been bound in the past report an affinity with one another once a relationship is established. Ease of conversation, companionable silences, and common interests tend to be the first things noticed._  
  
_The actual soul bonding occurs when two soul-mates are intimately connected, be it a kiss or intercourse. When couples share a kiss, a reverberation of magic is felt. A pulsing silver glow follows. Of couples who do exchange a kiss, all documented cases report that physical intimacies occurred within a fortnight as the need to be with each other is acutely physically painful. Of the four couples I’ve spoken with personally, three were intimate immediately following their first kiss. The fourth couple was intimate within one week. Once physical intimacies are established, a soul-bound couple will experience a more intense surge of magic followed by a golden glow._

_Strong emotional ties are interwoven immediately. Soul-mates report a desperate need to be within proximity to the other and are only truly calm when they are touching, especially when the connection is new. A passionate, fulfilling love is also a consistent documentation._

Draco stopped reading there, stunned disbelief filling him.

Pansy’s teasing smile fell off her face when she saw the color drain from Draco’s complexion. She glanced back at Theo, who met her glance knowingly. The gravity of the situation hit them all full force. They both looked back to Draco.

Theo spoke softly. “Draco, you need to tell her. She needs to know what’s going on.”

Pansy nodded. “Being Muggle-born, she probably has no _idea._ If she’s going through what you are…” she trailed off a moment before continuing. “She’s probably freaked out if she’s having the same feelings you’re describing.”

“From what that says,” Theo started, nodding to the text Draco was staring at in disbelief. “She’s feeling exactly what he’s feeling.”

Draco closed his eyes, horror struck. “Oh man, how do I tell her this? If this had happened to me four months after losing Astoria, I would have been furious. There’s no way I would have wanted it.” There weren’t many things that scared Draco, but telling Hermione Granger she was soul bound to him just made it to the top of his list.  “Merlin, I don’t know how to tell her.”

It started to become difficult for him to draw a breath as panic set in. He was crazy about this witch. Had been crazy about her since the moment she had shown up in his life again. Had it all been their bond? How was she going to handle this information? Fuck! How was he supposed to tell her that they were soul mates when she had just lost the love of her life?

“Okay, mate, calm down,” Theo was alarmed as he witnessed his usually collected friend start to fall apart. “From how it sounds, there’s really no fighting this. She’s going to be as drawn to you as you are to her.”

“And that’s all fine and dandy, Theo! But there are _children_ involved here, too! How are _they_ supposed to understand this? And our families? Oh, Gods. My father will lose his ever-loving mind!” Draco exclaimed, tears sprung to his eyes, which shocked him. He touched one eye hesitantly and pulled his fingers back, staring at the moisture curiously. He hadn’t cried since after Astoria died. “Fuck,” he hissed, a hand flying to settle over his sternum.

Anguish rose in his chest. Anguish? He wasn’t feeling anguish. Why would he feel like this? His eyes continued to swell with tears. Why the fuck was he crying? Then it hit him…was he feeling _her_ emotions? He had no reason to be feeling these things. He was frustrated and nervous, but not grieving. He wasn’t in pain. Was _she_ in this much pain? The ache in his chest rose tenfold. His breaths started to come in shuddered gasps. Bloody hell, how did someone _survive_ a feeling like this? He felt as if his chest was going to cave in.

“What’s wrong?” Pansy stood in alarm as tears slipped past his eyelashes and splashed down his face.

“I don’t bloody well know, do I?!” Draco roared, pushing away from the table as he swiped at his face. One hand clutched at his chest, trying to stave off the discomfort. “I think it’s Hermione, I think I’m feeling what she’s feeling.”

“Put up your Occlumency shields, Drac,” Theo suggested calmly, watching his wife round the table and start rubbing Draco’s back in slow, soothing circles.

Draco did as suggested, smoothly pushing his shields into place. Immediately the torment he had been experiencing disappeared and he was just left with his nervousness and fear. “It worked,” he said quietly. His oldest friends looked at each other, concern marking their faces.

“This changes things significantly…doesn’t it?” Pansy whispered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “The Day Before You” Written by Matthew West. Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album Feels Like Today


	5. Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** Again, my undying love and gratitude to my darling friend and Beta SnowBlind12. Best friends are the BEST. ;o) 
> 
> Thanks to all my readers for the emotional support and lovely reviews! Please keep them coming. The muse is hungry...FEED HER! :oD Review responses below.

* * *

**Chapter Five**  
 **Stand**  
 **September 29 th, 2012**  
**_“Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out. The edge of canyon with only one way down. Take what you’re given before it’s gone. Start holding on – keep holding on.”*_**

* * *

Draco stood outside a pretty little two-story home on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. It reminded him of Hermione and he gave it a small smirk. It’s siding was a beautiful, steel-blue with navy shutters and was trimmed with white windows, soffit, facia, and gutters. A grey brick chimney jutted out from a slate capped roof. The front door was bright red and inviting and held a large wreath of fall colors, acorns, pinecones, and tiny pumpkins. The house had a whitewashed wraparound porch where a bench swing hung, and there were fall flowers – mums, if he wasn’t mistaken – everywhere in a rainbow of colors. They were in window boxes, porch rail boxes, and in pots. There was a fading honeysuckle that filled a trellis off to one side of the porch, leaning up against the house. Rose bushes encircled the house in front of the porch and lined the tiny walk. A perfect, white picket fence lined the small, immaculately kept lawn.

Draco stared at the house, hands shoved deep in his pockets. It had only been hours since he had seen her, and the ache in his chest – the one that demanded her presence – had not diminished even a little. He wondered if she was struggling the same way, as well. He had been maintaining his Occlumency shields to block her emotions from him, he wondered if they also blocked his from her.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the gate on the fence and slowly made his way to the front door. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door was pulled open, narrowed brown eyes focused on him and he felt a shudder of nerves cascade down his back.

“Mrs. Potter,” he said softly in acknowledgement. He was very relieved to find that someone with her. “Is Hermione home?”

Ginny didn’t speak, just continued to stare at him through her narrowed, judgmental eyes. He really couldn’t blame her. If any of the Gryffindors he had gone to school with had shown up on his doorstep, Draco would have probably given them the same look. After a few uncomfortable moments, Ginny’s face finally smoothed.

“She’s upstairs taking a shower. She been quite emotional, I’m trying to help her calm down,” the redhead answered. Her voice was gentle, but guarded.

“Good,” he answered firmly. “She needs to calm down. She was almost hysterical. What about Rose and Hugo? Are they here?” He knew he sounded worried.

Ginny looked momentarily surprised before she took a deep breath. Pausing to lick her lips, she answered him. “Rose and Hugo are with Harry at Grimmauld Place,” she replied, her voice sounded just a bit suspicious. “I’ll be going back to help him in a little while. I told them that Hermione was sick and I was going to stay with her until she was settled. We’re keeping the kids away so they don’t get ‘ill.’ Hermione doesn’t want them to see her like this.”

_What a fabulous fib,_ he though with a small quirk of his mouth.

“Ginny?” A voice called tentatively down the stairs. “Ginny – I know this is really odd, but…” Hermione trailed of.

“What’s up Mione?” Ginny yelled back.

“Is Draco here?” Her tone sounded…scared, her voice was trembling.

Ginny looked at Draco in shock. She hadn’t even let him in the house yet, there was no way Hermione could hear him. Draco’s nervousness overtook him and he reached up to run his hands anxiously through his hair. He felt calmer just knowing she was on the same piece of property he was, but he could hardly wait to see her – touch her. To have her physically by him. On the flip side of this, he was terrified by how she might react to his little tidbit of information.

“Yes,” she called back in a clipped tone. There was a small gasp from the back of the house.  
  
“He is?” Her disembodied voice trailed down to them, a tinge of distress evident in it.  
  
“He just showed up on the doorstep.” Ginny moved back and indicated for him to enter the house. She gestured pointedly to a comfortable looking sitting room, making it abundantly clear he was not allowed to follow her. “I’m going to go up by her. May I tell her why you’re here?”

“Um…we…er.” Gods, how was he supposed to answer that? He hated the slightly desperate edge to his voice as he answered. “I just need to talk to her for a few minutes, if…if she’ll see me.” Auburn eyebrows rose at that statement. “It would be good if you stayed with us,” he added in a rush. Those brows rose higher yet.

There was an awkward silence before she turned suddenly and stalked out of the room. There were several long, uncomfortable minutes where Draco just stared around the living room. The couch and loveseat were brown, overstuffed leather, and obviously well-loved and lived on. There was a wooden rocking chair in one corner with an end table next to it and a little round footstool in front of it. The table held a stack of books. Some open, being held to certain pages, others obviously book marked and dog eared. Beside the chair was an overflowing basket of multi-colored yarn and knitting needles. Draco gave the little corner a small smile. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was positive that it was her little niche.

He took in a large, flat screened…telly? He was pretty sure that’s what Muggles called the moving picture machines. The telly was encased on each side by floor to ceiling bookshelves that were jam packed. Gods…she would love the library at the Manor. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. Instantly, he couldn’t wait to show her. He continued to scan the room and his gaze fell on a wall of photographs. His stomach leapt, and he couldn’t help the pull that made him walk over to take a closer look.

There were dozens upon dozens of photographs. Many from their Hogwarts days of the Trio together. His heart went into triple time when he found one of Hermione on what must have been her wedding day. Her unmanageable curls were piled on top of her head around a delicate looking tiara, her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. The secret smile that kept repeating on her face spoke of unmitigated joy and happiness. She was absolutely breathtaking. Draco found another photograph from her wedding day of the her and Weasley together, whispering in each other’s ears and kissing. He was pleasantly surprised to find no stab of jealousy – he was just happy she had been so happy. There were more photographs of her and Weasley, their children as they grew, many of them as a family, more of them with their friends and extended family, and a couple of shots that were still and had to be of her parents.

The last photo his eyes fell on must have been done professionally – like the wedding portraits – and absolutely stole his breath away. It was of Hermione, very obviously pregnant. She was laying on her back on what looked like white fur, her body angled slightly away from the camera. Her back arched and her knees were bent so that her feet were flat on the floor. Her lovely face was tilted to the lens, her rambunctious curls fanned out all around her. She was smiling, her eyes twinkling with happiness. She was wearing a pale pink lace top that left her shoulders bare, but covered her breasts, and matching shorts that went about six inches down her slender legs. Her smooth, pale stomach rose gorgeously with one hand cupped protectively around it. He had to swallow back his emotions at seeing her thus. An image of her ripe with _his_ child filled his mind. O _h, Merlin_. He was truly done in by this witch, nothing and no one would be able to replace this feeling. His Occlumency shields fell without his permission, he was too overcome with all these emotions to maintain them.

Suddenly, Draco’s heart accelerated, and he knew she had entered the room. He turned to her, an overpowering feeling of relief crashing through him. She was dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair hung in wet ringlets around her face.  He could see the look of relief mirrored in Hermione’s expression, though it was mingled with a slight mien of trepidation.

“You’re okay?” he whispered. It took every ounce of strength to keep himself from striding across the room and pulling her into his arms. He knew that would only lead to fervent kisses and him carrying her up the stairs to ravish her – Ginny Potter be damned. He shoved his hands into his pockets to help control his urges.

She gave a slow nod. He didn’t miss the way one hand automatically reached out for him as she took a step forward, but then she stopped, looking confused. Draco wondered where the Weaslette had gone…he shook his head. She wasn’t a Weasley anymore.

“Where’s Potter?” he asked. “I think it would be good if she was in here with us.”

Hermione’s confusion seemed to only deepen at that statement. “Ginny’s making some tea.”

“I have to tell you something, but I – I think you’d like her here for support.” He watched, fascinated, as her chin rose defensively and her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her bust.

“If you’re here to tell me you don’t want to see me again, Malfoy, just be done with it.” Her voice shook with emotion. “I realize I probably overreacted a bit this morning, I was just so –”

Draco couldn’t stop himself, her hurt and anxiety had welled up in him the same way it must have risen in her. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he crossed to her in three long strides. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her forcefully into his embrace, burying his face into the damp hair at the crown of her head. “No, Hermione, no.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control longings he knew were being brought on by the soul bind and her proximity. His voice was soft, but his tone slightly urgent. “That’s not it, you silly witch. Not at all. I swear.”

Her relief was palpable as she melted into him, her arms snaking around his torso, her hands sliding up his back. He gritted his teeth, stifling a groan. It got worse when she turned her head and raised herself on her tip toes to plant a soft kiss on the side of his jaw. He jerked in her arms, physical needs becoming extremely overwhelming. Hermione’s instant flood of lust mingled with his own and she tilted her head back, begging him with her eyes to kiss her. He let out a soft moan as his head dipped to do just that before he was able to jerk the reigns of his control and come back to himself.

“Wait,” Draco said gruffly. Gently – but firmly – he put her away from him. Another needy sound escaped him as he took in her glazed look of desire. Needing to maintain control, he whirled away from her, dragging a hand over his face in frustration.

He felt her confusion – and she could probably feel his frustration and hunger for her. Then, a wave of fear crashed through him. It was definitely not his emotion and he spun back to her, his eyes wide. Unexpectedly, all emotions that weren’t his faded in a breath of a second later.

“What is happening?” Her voice was almost deadly calm, her face smooth and void of emotion. Hermione had put up Occlumency shields. “Draco…” she trailed off. Her voice tremored terribly.

“I know, I know.” He said, trying to reassure. “I’m trying to control mine, too.”

Her face became a mask on incredulity as her shields slipped and he felt her surprised reaction slither through. He gently raised his Occlumency shields, trying to help keep her calm – trying to keep _himself_ calm.

“What do you mean?! Trying to control _what_?” Hermione demanded.

“Is everything okay in here?” Ginny appeared in the doorway carrying a tea tray, confused by the tones in the voices she was overhearing.

“Put that down, quickly,” Draco directed the redhead. When she looked terribly affronted he continued. “I need your help, Potter.” His voice softened with a touch of desperation. “Please, Ginny, put the tray down and hold Hermione’s hand. Keep me away from her, okay?”

Ginny looked utterly perplexed as she set the tray on the coffee table. She took in Malfoy’s deadly calm expression and Hermione’s blank face. “What is going on?”  
  
“We have our Occlumency shields up,” Draco explained as Ginny crossed the room back to Hermione and laced their fingers together.

“Hermione, I want you to take your shields down,” Draco said softly. “I’m going to take mine down, too. I need you to feel what I’m feeling so you know I’m telling you the truth, okay?”

“Draco…” Hermione whispered. Her voice was threaded with fear, her eyes were wide. He watched as her face drained of color. Then she did as she had been asked, letting her shields fall. He saw the return of her need for him, the desire to be with him; saw the confusion and fear in her eyes, felt it in his heart. Under it all, he could sense an emotion she was trying to suppress. It warmed his heart even though it was probably the one that terrified her the most.

 Draco let his own shields slip and was overcome with a desperate need to go to her, to hold her until her fear stopped. Above all that, he wanted her…he…loved her. His heart exploded with it and Hermione gasped, a hand covering her mouth as tears slipped down her cheeks. He knew she could feel it – part of him was mortified, the other part of him didn’t care who knew. He wanted to whole world to know.

Ginny looked from one to the other, bewilderment and distress playing in the features on her face. “Are one of you going to tell me what the hell is going on here? This is seriously intense. I don’t understand!” She placed her free hand on her hip in attempts to look threatening. Her eyes widened when Draco, ignoring her completely, attempted to stalk over to Hermione, wildfire bright in his eyes. Lust clearly written on the features of his handsome face. _Merlin, me. If he came at_ me _like that, I’d shag him on the coffee table with the neighbors watching!_ Then she remembered she had a job to do.

“Hey now!” Letting go of Hermione, Ginny put both hands up and stepped in front of him. “You told me not to let you touch her – go sit on the effing couch!” She gave him a slight push; he looked down at her hands in surprise and shook his head, trying to clear it. Meanwhile, Hermione was wrapping her arms around herself. Her strongest emotions were fear and confusion, but that hadn’t completely stopped the animalistic reaction to him when he had attempted stalking her like innocent prey. She wasn’t ready to be feeling so intensely for another man, it was too soon and too fast. This was completely surreal. She could sense his lust for her, but more engulfing were his feelings of love and affection – why could she feel _his_ emotions?!  
  
She watched as Ginny forced Draco back until he was sitting in the corner of the loveseat. He appeared to be in better control of himself. Ginny turned to find Hermione feasting on her lower lip.

“Mione, stop,” she chastised her best friend. “You’re going to make that lip bleed!” She picked a spot on the couch and indicated Hermione join her by patting the cushion next to her. “Sit.” Hermione complied, even though every fiber of her being wanted a very different seat… _Draco’s lap, please!_

“Out with it, Malfoy,” Ginny demanded as Hermione made herself comfortable. Draco leaned forward in his seat, both of his elbows supported on his knees. Dropping his head, he cupped his hands behind his neck and rubbed.

“There is really no easy way to say this, so…I’m just going to come out with it and it’ll have to be what it is…” he trailed off. The pause lasted too long.

“Malfoy!” Ginny snapped and watched as his head snapped up. He heaved in a huge breath of air before speaking.

“Hermione, you and I soul bonded today when I kissed you at the café.” It was said in the rush of a single breath and he flinched at the thunderstruck look on Ginny’s face. Then he turned to Hermione and forgot everything else. Her face was flushed with what appeared to be relief, her eyes bright with understanding. He could feel a gush of affection flow through him. Her affection for him! He almost groaned aloud with the desperation of it and she actually did let out a soft noise of pleasure.

“ _What_?!” Ginny’s shriek of shock made the soul bound couple wince.

“Draco…” Hermione breathed, ignoring Ginny completely. “Are you…sure? I didn’t…I didn’t…see the silver light.”

His eyes slid shut in relief. Hermione knew about soul bonds – of course she did, she knew about everything. She didn’t sound upset and he wasn’t perceiving any anger or sadness. His chest had filled with a light peaceful feeling. “Your eyes were closed,” he returned, whispering the words.

“That certainly makes all this make sense,” she said, sounding awed. “I just...Draco, I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

He nodded his understanding. “I know, I’m so sorry. I…I had no idea this would happen, Hermione.” His eyes never wavered from hers, he desperately wanted to go to her, wanted her to come to him.

“How could you?” she murmured. “No one can know until it happens. We just thought we liked each other.”

“We do like each other, it’s…it’s just so much more than that, now, though.” Draco replied, avidly watching her lip disappear into her mouth again, he had clenched his jaw to keep the visceral reaction at bay. He couldn’t believe what that simple gesture made his body feel.

“What do we do now?” Her voice sounded small, and he could feel a bit of fear seeping in around the wonder. “Draco…it’s too soon. My…my kids will n-never understand!” Unexpectedly, she burst into tears. _Gods in Heaven, that fucking hurts!_ Draco gasped as he grasped his chest when her guilt and shame washed over him. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling at her feet, not even sure how he got there. He had to have catapulted over the damned coffee table. Draco had her face in his hands, had pulled her forehead to touch his and was murmuring frantically to her, wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. Pressing gently kisses to the bridge of her nose and the corners of her lips. Trying his best to calm her. It felt as though she had always been in his arms, he was amazed at how completely natural this tender intimacy felt.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, shh!” he pleaded, eyes locked on hers. “We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to let this control us. I swear we can take this at whatever pace you want to. I’m so sorry this is happening. So sorry, Hermione. I can’t even imagine…” He had intended to say, “how you’re feeling right now,” but that wasn’t quite true, was it? He could imagine exactly what she was feeling, because he, too, felt it. Her anguish, her grief, her guilt - it was utterly all encompassing. He pressed his lips to her forehead as her hands came to wrap around his wrists, holding him to her.

“I know we will, Draco,” she answered in a scratchy, tearstained voice. “I know it’ll be okay.” She wasn’t sure how she knew, but there it was.

If Draco had been worried that their physical contact would push them into overdrive, he had been wrong. Right now, all that mattered was Hermione’s grief and guilt and his desire to soothe it away. He needed to reassure her that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t going to let the bond push her into something she wasn’t ready for. He was relieved to find that her voicing her unpreparedness for a physical relationship seemed to temper the bond. It was almost as if the bond was responding to her more pressing emotional needs as well as allowing him to overcome his physical desires in order to help care for her.

Through everything that was happening, Ginny Weasley neé Potter stared at them in complete shock. This was totally and completely … what? Incomprehensible? Horrifying? Amazing? Bewildering? Shocking? Wonderful? She wasn’t sure how to feel.

 

It was one thing to have her sister-in-law be casually dating Malfoy. If it had been a normal progression, where the relationship had built slowly, she would have been able to have time to adjust. To help Hermione with the transition. To assist her in breaking the news to their family _if_ it had turned into love. It was an entirely different situation to find Hermione soul bonded to the one and only Draco Malfoy. Childhood enemy of Ginny’s husband and brother; Hermione’s dead husband and best friend.

 

Her parents, to this day, despised the Malfoy’s for what the patriarch of the family had done to her in her first year with Riddle’s diary. They would not take well to this relationship. And Harry… _Oh, sweet Merlin – Harry!_...was going to flip his lid. He was nowhere near ready for Hermione to date, let alone be in love. The fact that it was Malfoy would only make it ten times worse. She raised a hand to rub her forehead, she could feel a headache coming on.

 

As Ginny watched Malfoy and Hermione whisper to each other and exchange gentle touches and kisses and endearments, she knew that’s what it was. It was love, or it would be in no time flat. How could it not be? If it was a soul bond, they literally had no choice in the matter.

 

What an incredibly romantic way to fall in love, though. Ginny gave a little wistful sight. Every little witch’s fantasy was to soul bond someday. There were fairy tales and fiction galore in the wizarding world that depicted the phenomena.

 

Ultimately, as she continued to watch her best friend in the whole world with a man she had despised for most of her adolescence, Ginny began to feel a sense of peace wash over her. Yes. This was going to be hard. Very hard. Hermione was going to need her to lean on as she figured it all out. Ginny would need to stand firmly by Hermione’s side against her own husband, her siblings, and her parents until they realized there was no stopping this. That it would be fruitless to try and put an end to it. Her friend – her Hermione – was going to be loved and cared for so very well. Draco would have little choice in the matter. He wouldn’t want to have choice in the matter. Making her happy, keeping her safe and protected and cared for would be his utmost desire. Hermione’s love for her children would inspire his own love for them and they, too, would want for nothing. All their material and emotional needs would be seen to with the greatest of care. All Ginny’s worry for them would be able to be put to rest. She would no longer have to fear for Hermione to lose herself completely in her grief. Someone now existed to help heal the hidden wounds in of Hermione’s heart.

  
When Ginny came out of her thoughts, it was to find the couple kissing deeply. Granted, their hands were staying in appropriate places, and it wasn’t like they were tearing each other’s clothes off. Hadn’t she just heard Hermione say she wasn’t ready for a physical relationship, though?  
  
“Hey!” she shouted, making the couple jump apart guiltily. Ginny suppressed a snort of laughter in favor of trying to look stern and motherly. “How are you guys going to handle being alone if you can’t go thirty seconds without shoving your tongues down each other’s throats?”

  
Hermione’s cheeks were flushed crimson and Draco ( _I can’t believe I’m already thinking of him as Draco_ ) looked properly abashed. “Not gonna lie, Potter,” the blond man answered with a sheepish smirk on his face while carding a hand through his hair. “It really doesn’t feel like we have much control over ourselves.”

 

“We have to figure out how to get control, though, Draco,” Hermione said softly, attempting to smooth her hair out of her eyes. “If we can’t, I agree with Ginny. I don’t think we should be alone. I don’t want to do anything I would regret because -”

 

Ginny broke in, her voice laced with sympathy. “Hermione, listen. I know you’re feeling uneasy about this, but…it’s a freaking soul bond. You get what that means, right? You were _destined_ to be together. You will never want to stray, you’ll never have to worry about him straying. He will love you unconditionally for the rest of your live, and you will do the same for him. I’m just going to say this to get it off my chest – you take all the time you need. You’re the one that knows your own heart. However, don’t fight this because of guilt. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty.”

 

Hermione’s eyes were soft and shiny with un-spilled tears. “Thank you, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny gave her friend a soft smile, but said nothing. She watched with warm eyes as Draco slowly slid in beside Hermione, pulling her into his chest. Hermione’s arms wrapped around his torso and she lay her head on his breast, sighing as her eyes closed in utter contentment.  
  
For the first time since Ron had died, Ginny felt hope blossom in her chest. It seemed that true happiness for her friend was just around the corner.

* * *

*** “Stand.” Written by Blair Daly and Danny Orton. Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album _Me and My Gang_**

**Author's Note:**

> *“Here Comes Good-bye” written by Chris Sligh and Clint Lagerberg. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album Unstoppable. Released January 2009.
> 
> **I did a metric conversion (to the best of my knowledge) and this equals 7lbs, 14oz, 22 inches.


End file.
